


Where We Left Off

by hypnoshatesme



Series: Time Against Us [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mary Keay's A+ Parenting, Nightmares, reflections on death and dying, shaky grasp on reality, they both should probably get some therapy.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: Michael is human again and sets out to get Gerry out of the book. Why should he be the only one to get a second chance?They start anew. Or continue where they left off. A bit of both, in a way.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Series: Time Against Us [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685134
Comments: 26
Kudos: 56





	Where We Left Off

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I know this is late, but I kept getting stuck, this was a High Key Struggle to write. I also just kept getting distracted by other projects.

Michael was screaming. It hadn’t been screaming a moment ago, it didn’t think. It had been laughing, closing in on the Archivist, years - whatever those are - worth of bitter resentment for its very existence, and many more things, it couldn’t grasp all those things that were distilling themselves perfectly into murderous intent. The Archivist. The Archivist would die. 

Except Michael started to become undone at the seams that should have never been, had never been right, had left rough edges to cut itself on again and again and again. And yet, being pulled apart hurt more. It was like becoming all over again, but in reverse. Not the thrill of unbecoming. Not the agony of becoming. Just  _ worse _ . Its vision went dark and it screamed until it was no more. Until Michael was gone.

*

Jon didn’t notice the fact that he wasn’t the only one leaving the hallways, his head still spinning from having been in there in the first place. So when he turned around and saw the man standing where the door had been a moment ago, he froze. It looked like Michael. But that couldn’t be it. From what Helen said, Michael was gone. And it didn’t  _ really _ look like Michael if Jon looked closely. At least he didn’t think so.

“Who...how did you get in here?,” Jon decided to ask, because it wouldn’t be the first time a statement giver wandered and got lost.

The man flinched, and looked at him as if he just realised Jon was there. He was wearing clothes far too warm for the weather outside - unless Jon had been kidnapped for much longer than he thought, though even for London winter, it was a bit too much - and his hair was a mess of blond curls, unkempt and matted, only letting Jon glimpse at the round face underneath. He  _ really _ looked like Michael.

“I...I’m not...sure,” the man answered, voice unsteady, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to use it. 

Michael didn’t know anything anymore. There had been pain, sharp and horrible, and it had felt it thoroughly, not at all like usual, when there was pain but also everything else, sensation distorted. The world looked off, and Michael felt wrong, felt seen, and it - he? - looked down at his hands, which were too short and soft and it made his head hurt and knees buckle. Michael didn’t hear what Jon said before hitting the floor.

*

Michael's head was spinning with colours and shapes and pictures - memories? - of faces, panicked, crying as they ran and ran and ran through the hallways, its hallways, through  _ him _ , endless and ever-changing. It sat up in the cot he was laying on, breathing heavy, eyes big as he tried to determine where he was. Why he was. Where the hallways were and why he wasn’t there. 

It was the archive. Michael recognised it rapidly, much time spent in here annoying the new archivist, avoiding the old one. Visiting Gerry. 

The room seemed to be spinning as memories flooded him. Too many, all at once. It used to not be a problem. Michael used to always have many things at the same time, a incomprehensible chaos in what went for its mind. It had always felt good. Now Michael felt like he was being crushed. He stared at his hands again and they were still the same,  _ human _ . His body ached and felt stiff, and he could feel his bones, unyielding. He sat up, trying to focus on something, anything, that wasn’t the feeling, the  _ awareness _ of his own humanity.

Gerry. Michael remembered him, had spent much time watching him, with him. But the Distortion’s memories weren't clear, and Michael felt like he had a million different memories of slightly different Gerry’s. Fractured pictures, voices.

But he remembered, disturbingly clearly, that Gerry was dead. Michael  _ remembered  _ him dying. Many memories were worthless, some not making sense, many barely coherent. The older ones from before Russia vague and somehow  _ wrong _ . They didn’t feel like his anymore. The more he tried to focus the dizzier he got, vague colours and shapes and little more and it  _ hurt _ . He hugged his knees. He didn’t know when he had started crying.

*

Michael felt numb when he heard the knock against the door. The tears had dried on his face as he tried to remember more, tried to recall every detail he could of Gerry. Partly because he felt an emptiness where he knew Gerry should be, partly because Michael didn't want other memories to intrude. Gerry was  _ safe _ . He was also dead.

He raised his head from his coiled up position as the door opened and one of the assistants - Martin, he remembered - came in with a tray. He looked a lot more in focus than how Michael recalled him.

"Hi, uh...Jon said you're here and I...I thought you're probably hungry after...so long." He gave Michael a worried, nervous glance before quickly averting his eyes again.

Michael thought for a moment. He hadn't considered it before, but he was hungry. He nodded and watched as Martin left the tray on the table before leaving after a last worried look. Michael got up from the cot to get the tray. 

He started to feel better as he ate. The tea, too, was calming - it had never really had the same comforting effect on him as the Spiral - and he held it up to his face, took in the scent and warmth. He felt a little less despaired like this, if he ignored the fact that he was sitting on a cot in the Institute, who knows how many years after he had last seen it with human eyes. Who knows how long after Gerry died.

He stared into his tea, trying to remember the last time he had seen Gerry. Or what was left of him. Michael frowned into his tea. How long had it been since he last saw him? Was Gerry still stuck in that book? In that horrible place with those horrible people? Michael had no idea. It had never returned. He felt the tears well up again but he pushed them back, annoyed. 

Michael’s grin on his tea tightened, something else joining the despair he had been feeling since coming to. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it burned, and Michael felt ridiculous for feeling sorry for himself if Gerry might still be out there, still suffering.

His memories weren’t clear, but certainly clear enough to remember promising helping Gerry. Which he hadn’t. Michael didn’t have his doors anymore, couldn’t find him as conveniently. But he was human, which meant he could actively help. He could burn that page, if he could find him.

Michael got up with a new sense of purpose and nearly spilled some of his tea, before he stilled in his tracks with a different thought, one sudden and loud. One ridiculous. But it refused to be dismissed.

_ What if he could bring him back? _ The End had Gerry, but he wasn’t dead, not fully. Not  _ really _ . And if there was one thing Michael got from his time in the Spiral, it was an awareness for how flimsy reality could truly be. Maybe there was a way to get him back? It didn’t sound much more unlikely than Michael being human again. 

Michael had felt himself dissolve, break and merge back into something else. Now he was himself again, more or less. He hadn’t looked in any mirrors, but he  _ felt _ like himself. Michael could try, at least, to find something that might help Gerry. He was still - or rather, again - a researcher. And also at the perfect place to start. It was worth a try while he tried to figure out how to find that book again.

Michael had nowhere to go, anyways. He took a last sip from the mug before putting it down and leaving the room to find the Archivist. It was disorienting to walk those halls again with human eyes. Everything looked too similar to how it had before and it was giving Michael a headache trying to sort through the many different memories it - he - had walking them. Some old and a little faded with age, and not quite right anymore, and most just outright wrong and loud. There weren’t enough doors.

The Archivist’s door looked just as it had when the person within had still been Gertrude and Michael had still been human. He felt the same nauseating nervousness in his stomach looking at that door that he had before. He certainly hadn’t missed  _ that _ as the Spiral. Michael probably hadn’t missed a lot, if he were to be honest with himself. He sighed and knocked on the door, trying to focus on the now. He was afraid he might forget what he wanted to say. Or would stutter. It used to happen a lot.

It was Jon’s voice who called from behind the door, and Michael relaxed a little. The part of him that had still expected, despite all, to hear Gertrude, breathed again. Jon was different. Michael could do this. He opened the door - it was such a familiar motion, but it gave no comfort, it felt too different - and stepped inside.

Jon looked up from behind his desk, “Ah, you’re awake.”

Michael nodded.

Jon’s gaze was scrutinizing and Michael held still, unsure of how to react, uncomfortable of being made so aware of the fact that he could be looked at without a problem again. He had quite enjoyed people not looking too closely. Or at least never seeing what they thought they saw when they did.

“You’re...Michael, aren’t you? Michael Shelley?,” Jon finally asked after a long stretch of silence.

Michael nodded again. They stared at each other for a moment, before Michael remembered he wanted to say something.

“I...c-can I stay here? In...that room? I don’t have anywhere to go an...and I could...help?” It was strange to talk so normally. Michael hated hearing his voice, the nervousness, the wavering pitch. Pathetic.

Jon furrowed his brows. “I wouldn’t advise you to start working for the archives again.”

Michael was confused for a moment, unsure if he had been too distracted by his voice to say the right words. He shook his head. “No! I-I wouldn’t...I meant more...if you need help? I can try, I...I still know my way around here.”

Jon nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s a problem with that. That room isn’t really used anyways.”

Michael smiled, grateful. "And...and while you don't, I have my own research to do."

Jon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Michael could physically see him struggling not to ask, settling for another stiff nod.

Michael nodded, too, before turning around and leaving a bit too quickly. It didn’t make too much of a difference that Jon wasn’t Gertrude. The Archivist’s gaze always made him uncomfortable. 

He made it back to the small room and realised he was warm. He was still wearing the same clothes he had put on in Russia. It was all the same and it made Michael cringe at the reality of it. He was back, in the most literal sense. And yet, he didn’t  _ feel _ the same.

He still had the map. He had stuffed it into his pocket, worried, somewhere deep in his mind as it was being unraveled, that it would become unreadable if he kept crying and bleeding on it, if his hands kept gripping it like a lifeline, fingers nervously running over paper,  _ desperately _ scrunching it up to make sure it was there and it was real and worked as it was supposed to, folding and unfolding it and staring and staring, unable to read it. It wasn’t meant to be read, it made no sense. But maps had never made sense to Michael. In retrospect, he wondered if that had been the point. He threw the wrinkled, frayed piece of paper into the nearest bin.

If he still had the map, chances were high he still had his wallet. It took a moment to go through all the pockets. He couldn’t remember where he’d put it. By the end, he had found some crumpled candy wrappers, tissues, a forgotten hair tie and, indeed, his wallet. It felt strange to look at the small pile of what were his possessions on the cot. They looked mundane, normal, like things that shouldn’t be the same after going through the Distortion. But somehow, they were. Michael eyed them enviously. 

Michael suddenly wondered whether they only  _ looked _ like they used to. Would he still be able to access his bank account with his card? How long had he been gone? Michael was worrying his lip, anxious to find answers to that question but also dreading to go out and find them. The Institute looked the same as always. In a way, it nearly didn’t seem real. Like this all might not be happening. But outside? Michael remembered,  _ knew _ how it was. And he was terrified of facing it with human eyes. He wished he had his doors.

Instead, he went to Jon. He didn’t know how long he’d been pacing his room, trying to think of his options, working himself into a panic for every single one he could come up with, but Jon was still there when he reached the door.

“I’m...sorry to disturb again. I...I think I might need help…,” he whispered now, not wanting to deal with the sound of his voice again. Michael didn’t know if he could take that right now.

It was still terrible when Michael went outside, but at least Jon gave him something to focus on, to make the busy noise and colour that was not as it should be, not enough and also too much fade. To his relief, his account was still unclaimed. Gertrude had never reported him as dead and nobody seemed to have reported him as missing. Michael wasn’t surprised. He was just glad he had some money to live on for a bit. He’d never been much of a spender. It should last for a while, if he was careful.

*

Michael mostly tried to stay out of the staff’s way. They seemed nice enough - he did go and thank Martin for the food, of course - but it felt odd to be in this place with all these new people. Michael didn’t miss his colleagues or anything. But he’d rather not spend too much time thinking about all that was changed. It was a dangerous path to take in his mind. His tendency to get lost in pasts and fall into melancholy despair unfortunately had not been fixed by his time in the Spiral. So he just tried to not think about it at all.

Instead, he threw himself into his research. Sometimes, he was asked for help, which he gladly followed up on, but mostly he was left alone. It was a lot like when he still worked there. He had been mostly ignored by staff then, too. There was something rather comforting about it, about him still being treated the same. 

Leaving the Institute on his own was unnerving, the outside too silent and dull, but also so loud and bright. He usually kept his errands as short as he could - which wasn’t difficult, he didn’t need a whole lot - but he knew that eventually, he would probably have to leave to follow up on what he was looking into.

It wasn’t too long before he left one evening for his first of a couple rather shady meetings and not quite legal trespassings. The anxiety he felt was old, memories of his teenage years, where he had done similar things more frequently. Well, not quite. He hadn’t met up with collectors of paranormal artefacts and the likes as a teen. Still, the intense urge to run felt the same, which was comforting. Michael pushed through. He was used to fighting his intense flight instinct. That’s what had him open the door in the first place, despite the whole situation clearly screaming for him to run. So he knew how to deal with the nauseating feeling of going through with something you absolutely did not want to do. 

Some of his adventures ended in a chase, maybe in some bruises, but Michael didn’t care too much. It kept his thoughts at bay. It brought him closer to bringing Gerry back. There was nothing else he wanted to concern himself with.

*

Michael realised how much of what he was doing was really for distraction when he felt genuine surprise at actually finding something. Part of him clearly hadn’t believed there would be a way to bring Gerry back. But it looked like there actually might be now, and Michael felt a new surge of motivation, and slept even less in the following weeks. It distracted him from the little progress he had made trying to figure out where the book was. Where Gerry was.

His memories were too hazy, or rather, distorted. And of course, it wasn’t like Michael had needed to  _ know _ where Gerry was to open a door to him. It had taken more effort, yes, because not much of him had been left, but it still only needed the will to open a door wherever Gerry was, in the end. Michael wished he would still be able to do that now.

Instead, he was stuck manually tracking Gerry’s way - he had never listened to place names when Gerry had told him where Gertrude was taking him and regretted it now; or maybe he had but it was just drowned out by the loud colours and chaos in Michael’s head - and eventually he had to give up on finding anything more specific than the place he died. Michael didn’t like to think about it. The hospital was surprisingly clear as a memory, Gerry slowly fading under his too-long fingers. Michael felt the sting of tears in his eyes at the thought.

Michael noticed that he wasn’t the only one reaching for the statements concerning Gertrude’s time in America. Jon seemed to be reading into it, too. Michael wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he decided to risk it and went to talk to Jon again. It wasn’t like he was making any progress by himself.

“Martin told me you were searching for this statement,” Michael mumbled after Jon told him to come in. He felt a lot like when he had still been working here, nervously putting the statement in his hand onto Jon’s desk. 

Jon furrowed his brows. “Was this for your...personal research?”

“Yes.”

“What are you researching?,” he sounded like it was a relief to finally ask and Michael gave him an apologetic smile.

“I want to find Ger-” Michael stopped himself, a blush creeping into his face remembering that Gerry wasn’t Gerry to most people, “G-Gerard. Uh...Keay.” It tasted odd on his tongue. Gerry had told him to call him Gerry relatively early on in their acquaintanceship and Michael had never considered going back to Gerard. He liked Gerry. Gerry had looked much happier being addressed as Gerry than with Gerard.

The frown on Jon’s face only deepened and Michael felt like he was transparent, like Jon could read his very thoughts. It took him a lot to not duck his head or quickly and find an excuse to walk out. Gertrude had looked at him like this sometimes. It had been just as disconcerting. 

“Gerard Keay is dead.”

The sharp intake of breath wasn’t intentional, but hearing those words so clearly from somebody else's mouth hurt more than Michael had imagined. He was shaking his head before he even realised.

“Not...not fully. Not quite. She put him in that book. That skin book,” he tried to match the certainty with which Jon had just spoken, but his voice was shaking.

Jon watched him in silence, his eyebrows drawing together once again. “How do you know that?”

“I saw him. I- when I was...the Distortion. I found him. I...I told him I’d find a way to help but I didn’t, then. So I’m...doing it now. I found a way to bring him back, I- I don’t know if it’ll work, but...if not, I’ll just burn the page, I...He needs help.” Michael was rambling and his heart racing and he had to stop before he started crying. There was a waver in his voice at the last sentence and he pressed his lips together to force his mouth shut and balled his hands into fists, trying to stay calm. 

Jon was still looking at him like he was a puzzle. “You knew each other?”

Michael nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“And you’re sure he’s still...in that book?” Curiosity was sneaking into Jon’s tone, careful and measured.

Michael wasn’t sure of anything. He still nodded. “I doubt the hunters that had him let him go.”

“Hunters?,” he sounded confused.

“Yes, they...they hunt monsters.” Michael made a grimace as he continued, “They use him as a...a guidebook, I guess.”

Jon’s poise slipped at that. Finally, a lead. “Where is he? Where are they?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t...know. Time and space were both not really...a thing. As the Distortion.”

There was a long moment of silence as Jon processed the conversation. He had wanted those statements, assuming they’d be relevant in some shape or form to his work. The knowledge that there was maybe somebody out there who knew more, had worked with Gertrude and might have information, might have explanations, made it difficult to not change focus. But maybe they could have both. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve been in contact with China about some statements Gertrude accessed there during her last visit. They were sent to America and they do not seem to want to send them in any shape or form, so I was planning to go there myself to read them.” 

The nerves were gone from Michael’s voice, replaced instead with hopeful excitement when he said, “Let me go with you. If I find Gerry, he might be able to help you, too.” Jon didn’t look convinced. Michael tried to sound a little less animated, and more professional, “If you don’t want me to go with you that’s fine. I will go myself one way or another. I just thought that, uh, together...we would probably have a better chance of finding him. A-And of...staying safe. You...do have made many enemies, by now. It would be...unwise to go alone.”

Jon thought about that for a moment, before nodding slowly. It was an excuse, he could hear it, the desperation clear in that forcibly calm tone. But he wasn’t necessarily wrong. “I guess it would be wise to have somebody to contact the Institute if I don’t come back.” 

Michael release a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

Jon nodded, waving for him to leave. He needed to get back to work. And to think. “I’ll tell you details when I know them.”

Michael nodded, before turning around and walking out of the office.

*

The flight was horrible. Michael had never liked flying before and the fact that the last time he had flown it had been with the Archivist to Russia didn't help, either. Michael found himself wishing he still had the doors once more. And then he stopped himself, going through their notes instead. Together they had a considerable amount of information but nothing to really narrow down where Gerry might be. They'd start in Pittsburgh.

*

Jon had not come back from checking out the hospital. Michael had been to the police instead, not trusting himself to not get overwhelmed when stepping foot in that place. The last place he had seen Gerry. The place he had seen Gerry die. Thinking about it alone made his heart clench. The memories were so vivid and yet they were also hazy and Michael couldn't remember the curve of his nose quite right. He remembered the unnatural stillness, though. And it hurt.

He had been pacing the hotel room for a while now, considering whether he should call authorities or not. He didn’t want to start unnecessary fuss and Jon would probably not appreciate that, either. If he was still alive. Michael bit his lip. He had to be. He had called the hospital and Jon had left there alive. Maybe he had gotten lost. Maybe he had found something and went straight to following up on it. Jon wasn’t the best at teamplaying so it wasn’t a completely unreasonable assumption. 

Still, Michael was worried.

*

It was late when Jon opened the door to their hotel room, but Michael was still pacing. He froze when he heard the door, eyes wide when Jon stepped through it.

“Jon? Where were you? I nearly called the police, I-” Michael noticed how pale Jon looked and tried to calm down, speaking in a more levelled tone, “Are you okay?”

“I found him,” he sounded tired and absent, like there was too much on his mind for him to really be there. "I promised to burn the page."

Michael froze as the words settled in. The nod he gave was a little stiff. "So did I. And I will if...if he says he doesn't want to try."

Jon looked at him for a moment, before nodding. "Do you want to keep the page?" He pulled it out of his pocket.

Michael look a step back, shaking his head. He didn't want to touch it. Michael didn't remember the feeling of Gerry's skin. They hadn't touched much before Michael went into the Spiral - only the occasional brush of hands - and it had been too brief and too long ago for him to recall it. His memories from the Distortion were quite useless to pin down the feeling. Michael did not want his strongest memory of Gerry's skin to be the page. Didn't want to be reminded of how dead he was.

“Y-You can keep it yourself,” he mumbled, too quickly.

Jon nodded, putting the page back into his jacket. 

*

Michael could barely concentrate on the rest of their stay and found himself looking forward to the flight home more than dreading it. Jon left him alone, for the most part. He had a lot to think about himself.

The flight was still awful, but Michael was too excited about having found the page to care much. He was going through his plan in his head, again and again, trying not to think too much about the possibility of it not working. Or of Gerry not wanting to try. Michael dreaded to and couldn’t wait for seeing him again in equal amounts.

*

Michael forced himself to sleep when they were back. He didn’t want to, he wanted to see Gerry, talk to him, as quickly as possible. But he could also feel the exhaustion. He hadn’t managed to sleep on the plane at all, and hadn’t been sleeping much in general. Michael didn’t trust himself to face Gerry in this state. And even less to try and bring him back. No, he needed to be at his best to gamble with the End. 

Michael sighed, turning back onto his back on the cot. It was easier said than done. Despite the exhaustion weighing him down, the excitement and anxiety refused to let him sleep. Everything was prepared. It should work. There was no way of being certain. It had never been attempted before, as far as he could tell. He’d only find out when he tried to do it. If Gerry even wanted to. 

There was so much uncertainty and Michael rolled onto his side again, pulling his knees up and resting his forehead against them. He felt strained, tight-strung like all of these variables that were out of his control might break him. Like he was being pulled apart. Again. He sighed. He had to sleep. He wouldn’t get any answers to his questions tonight.

*

Michael woke up nauseous, which he vaguely remembered being a common thing before when he was about to do something that made him anxious. He didn’t want to dwell on it. He knew it was pointless. Everything had been prepared before he had gone to sleep. Jon had left Gerry’s page on the table, away from his notes. He also left his lighter. Michael deliberately avoided looking at that side of the table as he went through the notes and the book he was fairly sure might make this work. At least it was his best chance.

Michael did not want to read the page. Part of him considered asking Jon to do so, but he had bothered him enough. Michael had never been the best at reading out loud, and he was fairly sure it would only be worse with this, so he had to read it silently at first. It didn’t go well. Michael didn’t know why Gerry’s death was still so very clear in his mind. It had the same distorted quality as all his memories from that time, but less. It was too clear, too real and too raw, and Michael remembered too well how numb it had felt when Gerry stopped breathing. Remembered clearly the agony that followed as it unravelled, not knowing how else, where else to put all it was feeling. 

It had taken so very long for it to find all the pieces and put itself back together and it had never felt the same after. There was something missing and it hurt, a very different kind of pain. Michael remembered it all so well. Reading it again, reading how Gerry had been feeling, just brought it all back and he panicked for a moment, shying away from the page after he saw one of his tears hitting it. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, it was a book page. The fact that the ink was on human skin, the fact that it was Gerry’s skin didn’t change that. As long as he didn’t read it out loud it was nothing more than a book page. Michael wiped the tears away and took a moment to catch his breath, calm his heartbeat. He couldn’t be losing it before he even started.

Michael should have stopped Gertrude before she did this. Maybe he could have, if he hadn’t be in pieces when it happened. He didn’t know. Sometimes the rules of what he could and couldn't do as the Spiral had been arbitrary. He remembered the choking guilt he felt when he saw Gerry again. It had been a sharp pain, and yet not as intense as Gerry’s death. 

Maybe he could've stopped it all. Maybe he could have avoided crying on a piece of Gerry’s skin containing his last moments in ink that refused him death. Michael was getting more worked up the more time he spent thinking, which wasn’t good. He took a deep breath, before leaning back over the page and starting to read again, this time out loud. Michael still hadn’t quite gotten used to his voice again. It sounded so...thin. Like it was missing dimensions it previously had.

Michael forced the thoughts out of the way, trying not to listen to the sound of his voice as he read. Or the words. It didn’t really work. Tears obscured his vision at some point and he made a noise of frustration, wiping them away. And then he froze, because when he looked up Gerry was there.

“You said you’d burn the page, what are you-” Gerry looked up, and stopped himself. He had expected Jon, and he was pissed about being read out again, was cursing himself for trusting the Archivist in the first place. Of course he wouldn’t burn him. He was a valuable source of knowledge. Still too useful to die.

But it wasn’t Jon he saw when he looked up and the angry words died on his lips. “Michael?,” it was a whisper, which meant it was barely anything because his voice went airy. A ghost of a whisper.

"Gerry." Michael’s eyes were wide and he wasn’t sure whether he had actually spoken or not.

They stared at each other. It had been the same feeling Gerry had when the Distortion had found him for the first time, the name popping into his head without it really fitting. Because this wasn’t the Michael Gerry had first assumed it was. It wasn’t a distorted version of the assistant he had gone out of his way to talk to. This  _ was _ the assistant.

He looked exactly like Michael when he had still worked in the institute. He looked more like him than Gerry remembered. His memory of Michael before had started to become somewhat blurry with time and with the Distortion wearing his face just a little wrong. But this was undoubtedly him. He looked alive and human and Gerry didn't understand how. He wondered if he was finally losing his mind. Could you lose your mind post mortem? Was Michael fucking with him? But where was it? Gerry hadn't seen it again since their goodbye. He looked around but there was nobody else in the room.

He looked back at Michael, expecting him to be gone. He wasn’t. He was still there, seemingly frozen, looking at Gerry with a tear-stained face. "Michael, how...are you here?” Gerry hesitated, before adding, “ _ Are _ you here?"

Michael nodded, slowly, eyes still fixed on Gerry. "Yes. I am. I...got rejected. By the Distortion. It was taken over by...somebody else. And kicked me out."

Gerry frowned. Michael had never given any details as to what it was, but Gerry had always assumed Michael, the human Michael, was dead. "I thought- I thought you….weren't anymore."

"I wasn't.” At least Michael didn’t think he had been. He hadn’t felt like he was. “But...I guess it really wanted to rid itself of me. I...am again." He gave a weak shrug. He hadn’t thought too much about it. Or rather, had avoided thinking too much about it.

Gerry watched him, trying to make sense of what he was being told. He really looked the same, as far as Gerry could tell. A little shorter than the Distortion, but still taller than Gerry. He looked more proportionate than it had. He looked  _ right _ and he was beautiful. Gerry was struck by it, couldn’t remember feeling this strongly about Michael before. He knew he’d been  _ repressing _ a lot, but this still seemed too much. He felt the same as the last time he had seen it, despite knowing that this wasn’t really the same being. Apparently he didn’t care. He was aching to kiss it - him.

Gerry tried to stay focused. "Did Jon give you the page to burn?" 

Gerry remembered it saying it would find a way to help him. He guessed it had, even if it had taken a while. And even if it wasn’t the same anymore. He guessed Michael had wanted to say goodbye. Gerry had to smile. That sounded very much like Michael. 

Michael’s heart was racing, and so was his mind, looking at Gerry, trying to remember, to reconcile his memories with the translucent features he could make out. He could feel the sting in his eyes again. It was too clear that Gerry was dead. Michael wanted to hug him so, so badly, but, much like the last time, Michael was afraid of what he might feel. Of how the feeling - or lack thereof, rather - would make it too real that Gerry was gone.

His throat felt tight when he spoke. “A-Actually, I wanted...I might have found a way to bring you back.” He swallowed, but it did nothing to make talking easier. “If...you want to. If not that’s okay. I...Jon gave me this.” He showed him the lighter. His hand was shaking.

Gerry frowned, “Michael, what are you talking about? I’m...I’m dead.” He still didn’t like saying it. He knew, of course, but saying it somehow just made it heavier.

Michael shook his head. “Not fully. I-I did some research. I think...I might have found something.”

Michael was gripping the table now, unable to make his hands stop shaking any other way. It calmed him. The table was there, was real and so this whole situation felt more likely to be actually happening, too. Michael didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know what to expect. It felt surreal, all of it, and it also felt _ important _ .

Gerry watched him intently, trying to figure out what Michael was going on about. He looked tense. “What do you mean?”

“Well, since I...came back I thought-” Michael bit his lip. Despite giving this so much thought, he didn’t really know how to best explain all of this. It didn’t make sense. It was an insane idea, and he knew it. “I thought there might be a way for you, too?”

“And you found something?” Gerry’s confusion was turning into wary curiosity.

Michael nodded, eager to finish this conversation and get an answer. “I might have. I think I have. I...haven’t tried it before, of course.”

Gerry took a moment to consider. It sounded too good to be true. “It sounds dangerous. You only became human again, Michael, there’s no need to-”

“Gerry, I wouldn’t suggest it if I hadn’t thought this through.” Michael hadn’t wanted to interrupt him, but he was beyond thinking about possible consequences. He’s spent enough time on that. This wasn’t the time to fall back into that rabbit hole. Michael had made his decision.

Gerry was surprised. Not necessarily by the words, Michael had always been one to think about everything thoroughly before actually doing something. At least he had before Russia. It was the tone that made Gerry pause, a certainty to it he had never heard from Michael before. Not as a human, not as the Spiral. Clearly, he had made up his mind already and that wouldn’t change.

Which meant it was up to Gerry. And Gerry wanted very much to say no, because there was no trusting the entities, the books. But he was also curious to see if it would actually work. And most of all, Gerry wanted to _ live _ . He had hoped for the page being burned, for him to finally be able to die, but that was because it was the only option he knew would end his suffering, the poor excuse of an existence he had been not-living for years now. But Gerry had never actually wanted to  _ die _ , not in life and not in death. And now Michael was saying he might not have to. 

Gerry was well aware that it was a selfish choice to make, but he still said, “Fine. You...you can try.” His voice did not sound as blank as he wanted to. He sounded  _ hopeful _ . Michael’s face lit up and his shoulders relaxed in relief. Gerry really couldn’t remember him being this cute. “If it doesn’t work…”

Michael nodded, face falling again. “I’ll burn the page.”

Gerry sighed. "Thank you.” They looked at each other for a moment. Gerry considered adding ‘goodbye’, just in case, but it didn’t feel right to say it out loud. Michael understood, Gerry could see that. So instead, Gerry decided to ask, “Do I need to do anything?"

Michael shook his head. The short relief was over and he could feel the anxiety again, though this time it had a different source. "You just have to get back into the book."

Gerry looked sceptical for a moment, but did as told. Michael took a deep breath, moving to his notes. He wasn’t sure if Gerry needed to be in the book. Maybe it didn’t matter. But Michael didn’t want to be distracted by his gaze. He needed to focus.

Gerry didn’t necessarily feel something more than he felt the lack of something. He hadn’t gotten used to the pain, but he had gotten used to its presence. He didn’t remember how it had been without it. He knew pain had been different when he lived, remembered, vaguely, that there had been a lot of headache, much more surface-level than what the book made him feel. But he couldn’t actually remember how it had felt. So when the pain started to fade and, finally, was gone, Gerry was confused. And then he breathed in stale air and his eyes opened wide.

The room looked the same, except he could  _ feel _ it now. He could feel the floor underneath his boots, could smell the slightly dusty scent that had always lingered in the Institute. It was cool and he hadn't felt temperatures in so long he shivered. He looked down at himself and he was there, still in the clothes he had worn on the plane, but they were  _ real _ . Running his hands over them only confirmed it, the fabric yielding as he ran his fingers over it.

When he looked up his eyes met Michael’s, big in shock. And then Michael was swaying, falling and Gerry forgot all the wonder at his new existence and moved forward to catch him. It wasn't a long way, the room wasn't much bigger than a storage closet. 

Gerry had underestimated the dead weight that was Michael and had to take a step back, and then decided to just take another one and sit down on the cot with him. He steadied Michael, letting him lean against his shoulder. As Gerry watched him, Michael was starting to open his eyes again.

"You okay?," Gerry decided to ask and he marvelled at the lack of ghostly echo in his voice. He had forgotten its sound.

Michael opened his eyes for good at the sound, ignoring the lingering dizziness. "Gerry..." 

He hugged him close, burying his face in his shoulder, memories clicking into place as he finally felt Gerry again, could finally breathe him in and hear him breathe again. Michael wanted to cry and laugh and did neither, too woozy to decide on one, too busy with Gerry being  _ there _ . 

Gerry, too, was way too distracted by the fact that he could feel Michael. He had frozen at first, expecting there to be nothing, like whenever one of the hunters had passed a hand through him. But Gerry  _ was _ again, he had a body again and he could feel Michael’s arms. They felt nothing like he remembered, but they felt human and Gerry carefully put his arms around him and returned the hug.

He could feel the fabric of Michael’s sweater, could feel his warmth and Gerry  _ giggled,  _ and buried his nose in Michael’s curls, that felt nothing like they used to, but he couldn’t really dwell on that because, somehow, Michael still smelled as it had, except different. There was a familiarity to it that Gerry couldn’t place, but he realised that this was, indeed, Michael. Despite the fact that Gerry could feel him breathe, despite how human he felt. 

“It worked,” Michael whispered, his voice filled with as much wonder as Gerry was feeling himself.

“It really did.” Gerry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

Michael melted under the touch, just for a moment, before forcing himself to pull away from the hug a bit. He was suddenly worried about something he hadn’t thought about too much. He hadn’t really believed this would work, so he didn’t dare to think about how things would be if it did. Michael was painfully aware of the fact that he no longer was the Michael Gerry had held and kissed, and he wasn’t exactly sure where that put them. They hadn’t been strangers before he went through the door, but they also hadn’t been  _ this _ close.

He didn’t really know how to voice all of that, though. He could already feel his cheeks burn just at the thought. “Is this okay?,” he mumbled, hoping it would at least do for a starting point.

Gerry looked at him, at his face, now from up close. The memory had gotten muddy over time. It did look a lot like the Distortion’s face had, but  _ right _ . Gerry had the urge to touch his cheeks, feel the blush. He didn’t. 

“What do you mean?” He brushed a curl behind Michael’s ear, wondering at how it seemed to look paler than the rest. Maybe it was the light. The archive had always had shitty lighting.

“I don’t know, I was wondering...if this is strange for you?” Michael looked at him, and the nervous, shy expression was so very familiar Gerry’s chest tightened with the memory. He wasn’t sure if the ache was good or bad. The memory was pleasant, but tinged with the loss that followed too quickly. But now he was _ back _ . They both were. “I’m not...well, we weren’t that close before I went into the hallway. If you...uh, want to go back to that, that’s okay. I don’t...want you to be uncomfortable.”

Gerry considered. He was aware of the fact that Michael had left for Russia when they would chat, maybe flirt, while at work and little else. And it wasn’t like Michael wasn’t different now, from the Michael Gerry had grown comfortable around. Maybe even from how he used to be before opening that door. But Gerry couldn’t find it inside himself to care too much about it. In essence, Michael was still Michael, the way he had hugged him, fit himself against Gerry so naturally. It felt right.

“It’s fine.” He decided to say, because trying to explain everything seemed too much right now. He wasn’t sure he could. 

Michael looked doubtful. He  _ wanted _ to believe that, but he also felt the difference too strongly still, felt the phantom of a rip that wasn’t there anymore, but should have been.  _ Had _ been part of him for so long he didn’t really feel like himself with it gone.

Gerry grinned at him, but it looked somewhat sheepish. “I...don’t think I would’ve minded if we had been closer. Back then.”

Michael’s expression shifted from doubt to confusion. “I don’t understand?”

“I did flirt with you a lot, it shouldn’t come as such a surprise that I might have had a crush on you,” he tried to keep his tone light but there was still some of the regret he had felt after Michael not coming back that made it through.

Michael’s face flushed a deeper red as he stuttered, “Oh, I-I mean...I...assumed you were just being nice?” He wrung his hands, looking down at them, voice going lower until it was barely an embarassed whisper, “M-Maybe I was wondering...but I thought I was just...projecting, or something.”

Gerry felt himself blush at that, actually  _ felt _ the heat rising to his face, surprised. Not only by the feeling, but also by Michael’s words. Gerry had been fairly sure his crush was probably not one-sided, but hearing Michael admit it like this was still unexpected. 

“You weren’t,” he mumbled, gently pulling him closer. “And this is fine.”

Michael tensed for a moment, before he relaxed into the hug, resting his head on Gerry’s shoulder again. His heart was racing, but he felt drained, too tired to care about more than the fact that Gerry was holding him. Michael wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right then and there, but he knew he should probably tell Jon it had worked. It wouldn’t have without his help.

He sighed, sitting up slowly, feeling like quick movement wouldn’t be a good idea now. He felt strange. “We...should tell Jon it worked.”

Gerry looked at him with a worried expression. "Are...are you okay?”

Michael nodded, getting up. “Just tired.” He looked at Gerry. “Do you...want to burn the page?”

“Can we?" Gerry’s eyes went towards the table where he knew the page was still laying. He could see it. 

"It's empty now." Michael had seen that before falling. "Just skin."

"Okay then." He got up and looked at Michael, who still looked unsteady on his feet. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Michael nodded. “Just tired,” he repeated and frowned for a moment as his vision swam just a little. Very tired. 

Gerry reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Michael was clearly not okay, but Gerry was fairly sure he wouldn’t be dissuaded from what he wanted to do right now. “You can lean on me.”

Michael frowned again, wanting to say that that wasn’t necessary. But he was too distracted by the hand in his own as they slowly left the room.

*

The door to Jon’s office was open, but Michael still knocked on it before entering. The Archivist was hunched over a box of statements in the corner, muttering to himself. Gerry huffed out a laugh at the sight, making him look up, clearly ready to voice his annoyance until he saw them.

There was a moment of gaping before Jon said, “It...worked?” 

Gerry grinned and nodded. “Looks like it. I would’ve appreciated a warning.”

Jon frowned. “I didn’t know how long they’d leave us alone, I-”

Gerry waved the rest of the sentence away. “It’s fine. Can we keep your lighter for a bit longer?”

Jon nodded, going back to his statements when he saw them turn around and leave. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Michael had succeeded. Things were just making less and less sense the more he found out.

*

Michael scrunched his nose at the smell of burning skin. They were outside by the bins, ducked out of sight of the street, though it wasn’t awfully busy. It was late - Michael’s sleep schedule had not been improved by his stay in America - and most people were probably already home. Michael felt a little better outside, breathing fresh air. Well, if it weren’t for the scent of the burning page still lingering even after it was little but ashes. He couldn’t take his eyes away from it. Gerry’s hand was still holding his, and yet he had just watched what had been Gerry go up in flames. Part of him was afraid to look up, afraid the illusion might fade when he dared to face it.

Gerry pulled him out of his thoughts by suddenly speaking up, “Are you greying?” 

His tone was one of surprise, but also realisation. It hadn’t been the light in the Institute. In the dying sunlight Gerry could see that Michael’s hair was, indeed, lighter in places, random grey-white streaks catching the light like spiderwebs, threading through light blond curls, sometimes disappearing in the coiled hair, but undoubtedly there.

It took a moment for Michael to understand what he was talking about, to shake off his own dark thoughts. Hearing his voice helped with that. He blinked, confused, before looking back at Gerry. Their eyes met and he was still here and Michael felt like he had been holding his breath. Gerry’s eyes went to his hair, questioning.

Michael’s hand followed his gaze, as if he might be able to feel what Gerry was talking about. “Hm? Oh, I...I don’t know, it just looked like that when I came out of the Spiral?” 

He had noticed the grey streaks during the fleeting glances he had dared to throw at the mirror, but hadn’t really thought much about it. It had been barely noticeable, as far as he remembered. Maybe it had gotten worse.

Gerry looked at him, took him in with what looked like a sceptical expression. There was a grin tugging at his lips when he spoke again, tone teasing, “Still doing little to balance the babyface.”

Michael blushed, running his hand through his hair before trying to match Gerry’s tone. “I just brought you back from the dead and you’re already insulting me." 

Gerry raised an eyebrow, grin widening. “Insulting?” He took a mostly grey strand of hair and twisted it around his finger. He was unsure how he felt about how much it felt like hair, and how little it felt like it used to. But he did know one thing. “I like it.” He looked up at Michael’s face that was just getting redder by the second and smiled. “And well. I never stopped liking your face.” 

Michael looked even more flustered, eyes wide at the casual compliment until he realised that staring at Gerry was only going to make it more obvious that he was flustered, so he quickly looked away, hiding his flush behind his hair.

“Still not good with compliments, I see,” Gerry chuckled, chest tight at the familiarity of it all. He had been sure he would never be able to see Michael like this again. He squeezed his hand softly. Even flustered, Michael still looked tired. “Let’s go back inside.” 

Michael gave a silent nod and let Gerry lead him back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask Jon where the other cots are?,” Michael mumbled, words barely intelligible with his cheek pressed against Gerry’s head.

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” came the answer, Gerry’s breath tickling Michael’s neck.

It was crammed, the cot clearly not made for two people, but Gerry wasn’t lying. He hadn’t liked the idea of leaving Michael alone, hadn’t liked the idea of being  _ left _ alone. Somehow, all of this, him being back and alive, still felt fragile and he was afraid it would feel even less real if he let go of Michael now. He hoped everything would feel a bit more real in the morning.

Michael sighed, pressing him closer. He wasn’t really bothered by the fact that it was a tight fit himself, his suggestion only half-hearted. He had wanted to hold Gerry for so long and he relished having an excuse to do so now. He didn’t care about comfort with Gerry in his arms. For the first time since he was back, Michael fell asleep without much fuss.

*

It was strange to see Michael’s face asleep after he had barely seen it so much as blink for so long. At least not in more recent memory. He had blinked before, before he left for Russia and never returned. Or rather, never returned as he left. 

Gerry had memories of getting somewhat distracted with the golden lashes, then, as they caught the light. Michael always had had the tendency to blink more when nervous, and he had never really stopped being nervous around Gerry, even when he managed to stop dissolving into a stuttering mess eventually. Gerry had never minded. He made most people nervous. And yet it had always felt somewhat different with Michael. It never felt like he was anxious to get away from him. It was more that he seemed anxious about doing something that’d make Gerry leave.

Michael was stirring awake and that, too, looked off. It had taken Gerry so long to get used to his face getting jerked into different expressions in a succinctly inhuman way. It had looked wrong until the end, but he had gotten used to it. Seeing Michael’s face slowly awake, tension coming back as he pinched his eyebrows together, squeezing his eyes close further, his slightly-open mouth closing, was strange. Gerry felt the same fascination he had for the incomprehensible shifts of the Distortion’s expression. He was still watching attentively when Michael’s eyes opened. There was a moment of confusion at the lack of a headache as Gerry looked into them. He forgot how grey they had been.

It took a moment for Michael’s bleary view to come into focus and he nearly jumped at the intense stare he was met with, temporarily confused about where he was. Gerry tightened his grip on his back to keep him from rolling out of the cot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled, leaning away and hitting his head on the wall. He hissed at the sudden pain. 

The bump made Michael snap out of his sleepy haze. Gerry was back. It had worked. The wonder and euphoria was quickly drowned by concern, “Are you okay?” 

He brought his hand to the back of Gerry’s head as a reflex. Gerry looked surprised and Michael pulled his hand away again, heat rising to his cheeks as he mumbled a ‘sorry’. Gerry just looked confused for a moment before he laughed. It was more of a chuckle, really, and Michael felt it more than he could hear it, and it was beautiful.

The laughter died down and Gerry’s face was back where it had been, next to Michael’s. “I’ve never seen you sleep. Got distracted and forgot that waking up to somebody staring you right in the face is probably a shock.”

“Oh.” Michael gave a small smile. “It’s okay. I mean, except for your head maybe…” 

Gerry shrugged. “Have you been enjoying sleep since you’ve been back?”

“Not particularly.” He felt more rested now than he had since he came back. And yet somehow, he still felt weary. Heavy.

Gerry traced the dark circles underneath Michael’s eyes, barely touching him. “I can see…” 

Michael sighed, and gently put his hand on Gerry’s arm. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Gerry didn’t know if he meant him or the Distortion. He was clearly having trouble with seeing them separately. It didn’t really matter, did it?

Michael looked at him. He looked as he had before and he looked  _ real _ and his face was so close. Michael bit his lip. “Would you...can we kiss?”

Gerry nodded, before leaning in. “Yes.”

Michael closed the last of the gap, pressing his lips to Gerry’s lightly. He felt uncertain, the shared kisses still one of the few clearer memories, making the difference he was feeling, even with Gerry’s lips barely there, stark. It made him hesitate.

“Everything alright?,” Gerry mumbled against his lips.

“I...does this feel weird?”

“You mean compared to before? No.” It felt much more quiet without the constant buzzing in his head, without the static from Michael’s lips. Different. But not weird. Gerry wouldn’t mind kissing him properly, but he didn’t want to push Michael. He sounded unsure.

Michael looked worried. “I don’t know if that’s good.”

“Me neither,” Gerry mumbled, because it was true. He pressed a light kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth. “We don’t have to rush finding out.” 

“Okay.” Michael nodded slowly, nose brushing against Gerry’s cheek. 

Gerry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “We should probably get up.”

Michael nodded, but didn’t move. He had never thought he’d find himself in this situation and his mind was starting to stress out as it caught up to it. He hadn’t actually planned beyond trying to bring Gerry back. Hadn’t allowed himself to consider it working, and certainly not believed he’d find himself in his arms like this. What now? 

“I- Do you know what...you want to do now?,” he asked carefully, trying to come up with possible answers and failing. Gerry hadn’t really acted the way Michael had feared he would. He didn’t know what it meant, had no idea what Gerry might possibly want to do.

“I was thinking of that last night.” Gerry kept playing with his hair, gently detangling the curls with his fingers. “I need to make some calls, get some things...but if everything goes well, we should have a place to stay that isn’t here.”

Michael blinked, surprised and confused about whether he had missed something. “W-we?”

Gerry froze, feeling the heat rising to his face. Of course, it was unreasonable to assume a ‘we’ even if their reunion had gone surprisingly well. Gerry should have at least asked at first. It wasn’t even like Michael had lived with him before. It had just felt like it sometimes, his apartment feeling more like a home on the occasions it stopped by. But this wasn’t even the same Michael. Gerry shouldn’t jump to conclusions. 

“O-oh, I mean...I didn’t mean to- Only if you want, of course? You can stay here, too, if you...if you want. I can help you find a place for yousel-”

“No! No, I mean-” Michael’s hand clenched in the back of his shirt, as he scrambled for words. “I mean I...I just didn’t assume- You don’t have to...just because I brought you back. I...but if you want to…” His voice lowered into a whisper, “‘We’ sounds nice.”

Gerry relaxed a little. “Oh...okay.” He gave Michael a relieved smile. “Do you want to come with me?”

Michael was unsure what to answer to that question. He didn’t want to leave Gerry. But he was already a mess, could probably do with a bit of time to process everything. He certainly shouldn’t go outside in this state. 

He shook his head. “I...I haven’t been outside a lot. It’s...a lot. Disorienting?”

Gerry nodded. “Okay.” He brushed Michael’s hair behind his ear, looking into his eyes. “I’ll try to hurry up. I’ll pick you up later, okay?”

Michael nodded, still a bit confused about what exactly Gerry was planning to do. Gerry pressed a gente kiss to his chin before getting up from the cot.

*

“It’s small, but well...should work for now,” Gerry said as he closed the door behind them. 

He had been away for most of the day, to the point where Michael had started to wonder whether it had all been real. His notes had been blank when he looked at them, sending his heart racing. But the book was still there. And when he went to Jon to ask for his lighter again, Jon asked about Gerry. Michael felt a little better when he stood watching the book burn minutes later. Not good. He still felt strange. He felt cold.

After Gerry picked him up again, they drove for a while. Michael had wondered about the car, but didn’t ask. For a moment, he thought they might be leaving the city, but they simply crossed it, coming to a stop next to an old, inconspicuous apartment complex. They walked for a bit longer, to a different building that looked similarly plain. A couple flights of stairs later, Michael found himself in what he guessed was the place Gerry had talked about. Their place.

“It looks bigger than my old apartment, to be honest…,” Michael mumbled as he looked around. It was certainly bigger than the room in the Archive he had been living in since coming back. It made him feel small.

Gerry followed him into the main room that consistent of a kitchen in one corner with a small dining table, an old sofa facing a couple of empty shelves. “It’s stocked with essentials, but I did bring a couple more things.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Haven’t had time to clean or anything, it’s quite dusty.”

Michael turned around to him. “What _ is _ this place?”

Gerry shrugged. “In my line of work you do good to prepare for everything.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Like coming back from the dead?”

Gerry laughed. “Not quite, but it happens that sometimes somebody or something finds out where I live. I always kept this in case I needed to bolt. And a storage unit with some essentials, the rest of my mother’s books…” He shrugged. “I try to keep as little as possible in one place.”

Michael did remember Gerry’s apartment looking rather bare. Then again, Gerry had spent a lot of time outside of it, so he had always guessed it made sense. He had never considered it might be intentional. Michael looked at Gerry with a new sense of awe, suddenly aware that there was so much he didn’t know about him, so much to still discover. 

Gerry smiled at him. “Come, I’ll show you the rest.”

The rest consisted of a bedroom that was basically filled up with a bed and a dresser and an even smaller bathroom with a shower that definitely looked like Michael would have to duck under the showerhead. Which was nothing new, it had been the same in his old apartment.

“Have you used it before?,” Michael asked as they made their way back to the main room.

“Many years ago. It’s not too bad.” He shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t then, at least. Everything worked.” 

Michael nodded, “I’m sure it’ll be fine after we clean.”

They got to work on that. Even though it was small, it still took them a while to clean everything and find space for their things. Not that they had a whole lot, but it was still a struggle with the limited storage space. 

Gerry was starting to get hungry. He had kind of forgotten he’d need to eat again. He hadn’t felt hunger in so long it took him a moment to name it. It felt  _ strange _ .

“Michael?,” Gerry called from the bedroom, “Do you want to order some food?” 

No answer. Gerry shrugged and finished making the bed before going to the kitchen, where Michael had been sorting through the cupboards. When Gerry arrived, Michael was standing still, staring ahead, looking lost. 

Gerry slowed his step, "Michael?"

Michael still didn’t hear him so he stepped closer, touching his shoulder. He didn’t quite jump, but Gerry still felt him snap out of whatever he had been thinking of.

Michael turned around to face him, “Oh...sorry, I was just…a little distracted.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gerry searched his face, worried. 

He shook his head, tugging a strand of hair that had come loose from his ponytail behind his ear, mumbling, “This is just...surreal. All of it. And...it kind of feels like we skipped a lot?”

Michael wasn’t bothered by it, personally. But he kept becoming aware of how  _ abnormal _ this whole situation was, how it wasn’t as it should be. He had always cared too much about normalcy and he guessed being outside the Spiral made that part of him resurface and now it was constantly pointing out how far from  _ normal _ everything was. How unreal it was.

Gerry carefully wrapped his arms around Michael, hoping to ground him a little. He couldn’t blame him for struggling with wrapping his mind around everything. Gerry wasn’t too different in that aspect. He wasn’t quite sure if he really believed this was happening. But he decided it was pointless to dwell on it too much. It was much more useful to put his energy into trying to get some semblance of a life. Michael leaned into the hug, making Gerry smile.

He squeezed him lightly. “Well, according to Jon the world might end any day now, so...maybe it’s not a bad idea to go a bit quicker.” He said it with a joking tone and a playful wink, despite it probably not being too far from the truth. That wasn’t really the point of it right now.

Michael laughed, which was what Gerry had hoped for. It was still strange for it to not hurt, to not pierce his very being. As it faded, his ears weren’t even left ringing. Remarkable. And so lovely.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Michael said with a chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind Gerry’s ear. 

He bent down, and this time didn’t give himself time to hesitate, but leaned in and pressed his lips to Gerry’s. The last flicker of doubt died when Gerry kissed back and it felt  _ real _ and so much like it had before, except more. And maybe less, too, in some aspects. Michael didn’t know and also didn’t care because it  _ was happening  _ and that was all that mattered.

Gerry looked surprised when they pulled apart. “Was that...okay?”

Michael nodded. “For you?”

Gerry nodded. Part of him still expected the static. But he couldn’t say he was disappointed about actually feeling Michael’s smooth lips instead. He closed the gap again for a shorter kiss. Michael smiled into it.

“What did you want, by the way?,” he mumbled when Gerry pulled away again.

Gerry took a second to remember. “Ah, ask if you’re hungry? We could order something.”

Michael drew his eyebrows together. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Gerry blinked at the stern expression and tone, before bursting into laughter. It hadn’t been the first time he had gotten Michael mad by forgetting to eat, but it was the first time it was this blatantly obvious. The Distortion had always been harder to read.

Michael blinked at him in confusion, unsure what exactly was funny about what he had said. Gerry tried to explain, “When Michael looked at me like that- I mean...the distorted one. It was hard to tell sometimes?” He caressed Michael’s cheek, grinning. “But you’re making the message crystal clear. It was just...a surprise to see that expression on your face, to be honest.”

Michael blushed. “W-well, you should really work on...getting better with that.”

“I’ll start by ordering us some food, ‘kay?” 

Michael nodded and Gerry pulled away from the hug to place the order. Michael moved to finish cleaning the kitchen, trying to distract himself from how keenly he missed the hug already.

*

They sat in silence after eating and Michael’s eyes couldn’t decide whether he wanted to look at Gerry or take in his surroundings that felt so very different than the Institute. More comfortable. He felt less watched here, except he knew Gerry’s eyes were fixed on him. But that didn’t bother him.

His eyes fell back on Gerry, meeting his gaze. Michael hadn’t even gotten to appreciate the lacking crease between his brows, the absence of discomfort or outright pain on his face when he looked at Michael now. Sometimes he still looked a bit confused or surprised, but Michael felt like those expressions were rather relatable. A reaction to the novelty that was this whole situation.

"How is your head?,” Michael finally decided to ask. A bit quieter, he added, “Do...do you think the tumour is gone?”

Gerry had been thinking the same. His head hadn’t hurt since he was back, which he had first attributed to the fact that Michael wasn’t part of the Distortion anymore. But how much of his headaches had really been it? How much had it been the tumour? He remembered the surprised faces of the nurses. If it really had been that bad - and it was, it killed him - it was likely some of the headaches from before had been it. The exhaustion from the travels and long nights working probably added to it, too. He didn’t know. But he at least didn’t feel any of it now.

“I...don’t feel anything. I mean, no headaches. At all.”

Michael was biting his lip. “You should probably still get it checked. Just in case.”

Gerry nodded. He had thought about that, too. “I’m getting our paperwork tomorrow. After that maybe.” 

He didn’t sound very happy about that plan. Part of him didn’t really want to know. If it was still there he assumed it would be in the state in had been when he died. Which meant there was no way to survive.

“Paperwork?,” Michael asked, curious.

Gerry smiled, grateful for the change of conversation. “IDs and all of that fun stuff. Yours is probably not valid anymore and I’m dead on paper.”

Michael’s eyes widened, “How-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I guess it’s part of being prepared for everything?”

Gerry chuckled. “Yes.” There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, propping his head on his hand. “Have you thought about what to do with your new life?”

Michael hadn’t. He hadn’t really thought about this as a ‘new life’, had tried to avoid thinking of anything beyond bringing Gerry back. It felt like too much. But Gerry was here, now, and so was Michael and he guessed that meant there had to be some form of life. It was still overwhelming to think about it. Michael tried to focus on a small aspect of what constituted his idea of a life, for now.

“I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest…,” he mumbled, “But I think I’d like to work a job that doesn’t get me fed to a fear entity, for example.” He gave a small smile.

Gerry laughed, “I see you’re setting the expectations low. Well, it sounds like a good starting point at least.”

“What about you?” Michael eyed him curiously. Even though Gerry had only been back for such a short time, he seemed to be dealing with it better than Michael. He seemed to know what to do. 

Gerry shrugged. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. He had a lifetime of ‘what if I could start anew’s and wondering about how life might look like if he were free. And now he  _ was _ free and what he felt was a crushing uncertainty. Well, at least he felt free for now. Would he ever truly be free of his old life?

“I don’t know…” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I thought that maybe...one lifetime dedicated to this shit was enough.”

He felt guilty for saying it out loud. He _ knew _ it was selfish. But it was just as true. He didn’t want to go back to tedious research that maybe, on occasion, would bring him to a book to burn. If the book burned. Often getting them ended up being just as much of a pain as finding them. Thinking of it alone already made him realise how tired of it he was, had been. He had just kept going because what else should he do? Life had always brought him back to it like some fucking curse. Maybe this was his chance for escape. 

Michael nodded and took one of his hands, squeezing it. “Only one way to find out.” 

He gave Gerry a reassuring smile, hoping it would help to ease the tension that had crept into his face when he had answered. The smile Gerry returned was a little shaky, but his shoulders did seem to relax a bit.

*

Michael went with him to the hospital the next day. He wasn’t eager to, but if he did want to try and start living again, he had to get used to going outside. Also, Gerry had looked extremely nervous and Michael couldn’t let him face it alone. Another thing was that he just wanted to  _ know _ , right away. Michael still dreamed of Gerry’s death. He needed to know how likely it was going to repeat itself.

“Can you explain how it’s different? What’s making it hard for you to be outside now?” Gerry was trying to distract himself from waiting. He had always hated waiting.

Michael was still clutching his hand - hadn’t stopped since they stepped outside of their apartment and Gerry really didn’t mind. He felt like he needed something to hold on to for today. He had watched Michael’s eyes dart around the waiting area nervously, occasionally going hazy. Michael had mentioned still getting disoriented, but Gerry did wonder why. Or how.

Michael sighed, looking at Gerry. “It’s hard to explain it’s...I’ve always had that problem, somewhat. Before. As the Distortion, though...it wasn’t anymore. Everything was chaos anyways and I had no problem with orientation, I could sense the fear of those people who were...interesting to me.” He paused for a moment, trying to push the resurfacing images of his victims down. They hadn’t stopped haunting him. “It...I didn’t necessarily had an overview of everything? But it didn’t really matter. I had an overview of...what mattered to me, I guess. Mostly just fear and the rest blocked out, somewhat. But now…” His thumb ran over the back of Gerry’s hand. “It’s all at once and...so much? I don’t like not...knowing anymore. What to focus on.”

Gerry let all of that sink in, taking note of how frustrated Michael sounded explaining it. It was probably not a satisfactory explanation to him. It certainly didn’t really make it much clearer to Gerry. But the tone did. The undercurrent of anxiety. He brought Michael’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Gerry could still barely believe how soft it was now.

“You can always try to focus on me when it gets too much,” he was half-joking, hoping that if the suggestion wasn’t helpful it at least would lighten the mood a little.

Michael smiled, squeezing his hand. “As long as you’re with me, yes.”

Gerry returned the smile with an encouraging one, “We’ll figure something out for the other times, Michael.”

Michael nodded, not necessarily convinced, but appreciative. Hearing him so casually refer to them as ‘we’ still made still made Michael blush. He  _ liked _ how it sounded. It sounded too good to be true. 

Gerry’s name was called next and they finally got up from where they had been waiting.

*

Michael hadn’t been much of a drinker before, and he still wasn’t. Still, he had agreed to getting some drinks because he had no idea how to deal with the wave of relief that came with finding out that Gerry was fine, either. Too much had been going smoothly and it was clear from Gerry’s obvious disbelieve at the news that he had been thinking the same. And so they had left the hospital somewhat dazed, unsure what to do - they should run some errands, but that felt weird to do now. They didn’t want to go home either. So when Gerry suggested a pub, Michael had agreed. 

It sounded like something people would do. Celebrate the news. He wasn’t sure if they even were celebrating. They hadn’t spoken much. It didn’t really feel necessary. They were on the same page. Processing good news they couldn’t quite trust, neither used to life being particularly kind to them. Trying to find a balance between relief and the doubt that was trying to spoil it. Michael clearly hadn’t drunk enough to really solve this conflict, but it did at least feel a little softer now. Muted.

He found his mind wandering away from it, not completely, but enough to focus on Gerry in front of him. His face was blank now, some of the tightness in his jaw gone in the time they had been sitting in the dimly lit bar. Michael was still amazed by how familiar his features were. It shouldn’t be too surprising. 

Michael had been stealing glances at him since he saw Gerry in the archive the first time. Had tried to get a good look of his face when Gerry started talking to him, since that meant he had an actual excuse to look at him. As the Distortion, Michael never cared for excuses. It liked that face and so it looked at it. And now that face was back and Michael still felt the same awe looking at it, watching the light and shadow play on features, catching on metal, make dark eyes even darker. Michael felt like he could watch all day.

Gerry was looking down at the table, at his drink, the finger tracing the rim of his glass. His mind wasn’t racing anymore, thoughts slower. But they were still clear. Gerry didn’t want to get drunk. If the world started losing focus, he would probably have an even harder time accepting it. He felt like he was floating, in a way. He knew he hadn’t had enough alcohol to feel that way. Gerry couldn’t even decide if it was a good or bad kind of floating.

Michael followed his gaze, starting to feel a little self-conscious about staring at his face again. He wasn’t the Distortion anymore. He unfortunately was highly aware of the fact that it wasn’t really appropriate to look at somebody for this long. Gerry’s glass had been empty for a while now. Michael didn’t know when he had started tracing it, but it brought back memories. Gerry’s hands were another thing he had noticed early on, the absent-minded way Gerry raked his long fingers through his hair out of habit making them difficult to ignore. 

And Michael still remembered how excited it had been to hold them. He remembered the feeling of them in his own hand just a couple hours earlier. He didn’t remember the feeling of them digging into his back, but he did remember how it had made him feel and suddenly he felt warm, so warm the lingering cold spot that seemed to have made its home somewhere deep within him was forgotten. He straightened up, blush high in his cheeks.

His knee knocked into Gerry’s as he shifted in his seat, snapping Gerry out of his thoughts, eyes coming up to meet his, intense as ever even in the bad light. It made Michael freeze, made him feel seen, like he was looking right into his soul. Reading his mind. Which only made him blush further.

Gerry couldn’t read minds, but he didn’t need to to feel the change in atmosphere. They held each other's gaze for a long moment before Gerry spoke, "Home?" 

Michael nodded.

*

They didn’t know who moved first, but the apartment door had scarcely closed before their lips met. It was a short kiss at first, both pulling apart after a moment to share a questioning look, uncertain. 

“You’re...not drunk, are you?,” Gerry asked. It wasn’t exactly what he meant to ask but close enough.

Michael shook his head, a couple curls he’d pushed out of his face falling back into it, some blond, some grey. Gerry found them rather distracting. He wanted to touch them. He nearly didn’t hear when Michael spoke, “You?”

“No,” he mumbled, eyes falling on his lips again, closing the space for another kiss, this time deep and passionate, uncertainty forgotten as Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist, Gerry’s hand burying in soft curls.

Gerry’s other hand came to his back and he pressed Michael closer, pressed himself flush against him much like he had the first time when his arm was hurt from a fall and his heart racing from a chase. Michael could feel it racing now, too, even through their clothes. It was more difficult to maintain the kiss this close, Michael’s body no longer bending as he wished, and he was sure Gerry was craning his neck uncomfortably by now but he didn’t complain.

They took longer than they should have to the bed, hands eager to free skin, lips drawn to every exposed patch of it. It felt familiar and foreign at the same time, not quite as expected, but it was okay. They took their time to get used to it. They were in no hurry as their breaths mingled and limbs tangled and hands wandered. For once, there seemed to be time.

*

There was a moment of panic when Michael woke up to surroundings he didn’t recognise, a moment of losing his grip on what had and had not happened, on where reality began and the Spiral ended. Then he heard cursing from somewhere behind the door, heard  _ Gerry  _ cursing and his racing thoughts came to a stop. 

He took a deep breath, climbing out of bed. He didn’t put much thought into which of the discarded clothes on the floor he put on before making his way to the kitchen, where the noises were coming from. Where  _ he _ was hearing the noises coming from. It wouldn’t be the first time Michael would go to investigate noises only to realise there was nothing. Although that would be rather surprising considering where he had woken up. Still, Michael felt a wave of relief when he did find Gerry in the kitchen.

Michael hesitated for a moment, before deciding to speak, “Good morning.” He approached, wondering about the burnt smell. “What are you doing?”

“Morning.” Gerry turned towards him with a small smile. “Apparently, I’m burning toast.” He nodded towards the plate with a couple of slightly charred slices of toast. 

Michael returned the smile and pressed a tentative kiss to Gerry’s cheek. “Let me help.”

They made breakfast - or salvaged it, rather - in relative silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It was surprisingly easy, felt natural, even. And Michael found himself wondering if he should really worry so much about something that felt so right. He felt comfortable in this tiny kitchen with Gerry, and Michael hadn’t felt  _ comfortable _ since he had been back, hadn’t felt like himself, had felt like whatever he was did not fit with whatever world he had come back to. But now all of that didn’t seem to matter as Gerry’s arm gently brushed his as he reached for the mugs. Michael felt good and equally as surprised by the fact that he did.

Gerry for his part was still wondering on how easy it felt to fall back into step with Michael, considering it wasn’t even the same Michael. Nothing was really the same. And still, it felt so very familiar. Part of him felt the empty space where static had been. But he didn’t necessarily miss it. Michael was still there. Michael was  _ alive _ . Gerry had missed  _ that _ .

“Did you sleep okay?,” Gerry asked when they sat down to eat. He had been wanting to ask about it before, but neither of them seemed too keen on talking. And Gerry hadn’t wanted to disrupt the morning calm by bringing back past night’s nightmares.

Michael nodded, stirring some milk into his tea. “I did. Thank you for waking me when I started...dreaming.” 

Gerry watched as Michael stared into his mug. “No problem.” He smiled a little. “It’s the least I could do after you saved me from mine so many nights.”

“That probably won’t be the case anymore…,” Michael sighed.

Gerry shrugged. “We’re on equal footing now. Can only wake the other up and hope for the best.” 

A moment passed of Michael looking at him intently, “Doesn’t it bother you? How useless I am?”

It bothered Michael. Had been bothering him since he was back. He felt powerless. He  _ was _ powerless. Useless.

Gerry shook his head. “You don’t need to be  _ useful _ for me, Michael. I didn’t bring you here in the hopes of your presence keeping away my own nightmares, I’m not upset that you can’t conveniently make doors to places anymore-”

“I’m upset about that one, actually,” he said it jokingly, but that didn’t make it any less factual. 

Gerry chuckled and took his hand. “Well, that was a pretty nice power, so I can’t blame you.” He squeezed his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. Gerry loved how his hand fit in his own now. “But still, I’m just happy you’re here. We’re here.” He looked up to meet his eyes with a genuine smile.

Michael looked at him for a long moment before a shy smile spreading on his own lips, eyes carefully hopeful. He was so much easier to read now. Gerry wanted to make him smile more. It looked wonderful, no longer wrong or painful. Just beautiful. 

“I…I think I feel the same,” Michael said eventually, squeezing his hand back.

*

Gerry did not have a whole lot to choose from when it came to a job, but he wasn’t particularly picky either. He just wanted to find something quickly to distract himself from too much thinking. So when Michael noted the second hand bookstore they passed on their way to do groceries was hiring, Gerry didn’t hesitate. He guessed if there was one non-paranormal thing he knew about it was books. And he even liked them. So it didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

Michael for his part had been looking into something similar to the archives, just less deadly. He  _ had _ liked working there. It took a couple tries, but eventually he managed to be hired by a small local library. He got the email a week after Gerry started working in the bookshop and Michael had to control himself to not call him at work to share the news. Waiting for him to get home seemed too much, so Michael decided to pick him up from work.

When Gerry stepped out of the shop, Michael could barely hold himself back from hugging him. But he did, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest as he waited for Gerry to look up and notice him, face surprised. “Michael? I didn’t expect you-”

“I got the job,” Michael blurted out, unable to contain his excitement, words running together as he did.

It took a second for Gerry to understand but when he did his face lit up and he pulled Michael into a tight hug. Michael smiled, returning the hug, glad he finally had somewhere to put his bubbling excitement. Gerry pressed a kiss to Michael’s cheek, looking into his grinning face. “We should celebrate.”

Michael chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. “We didn’t celebrate you getting your job.”

“You baked a cake,” Gerry pointed out, brushing a curl behind Michael’s ear.

“Well, I...I guess?” Michael blushed a little at the memory. He hadn’t expected Gerry to be that happy about something as simple as a cake.

“Just something like that.” Gerry followed the blush with his fingers, smiling. “We could order some food and just have a movie night or something? If you want?”

Michael smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Gerry nodded and stepped out of the hug, taking Michael’s hand instead. They made their way home in pleasant silence.

Movie nights went a lot like they used to, with both of them on the couch and Gerry’s laptop on the coffee table. The content on the screen was no longer distorted into nonsense, but otherwise it didn’t feel too different. Neither of them really cared for what they were watching anyways, it was mostly background noise. Somewhere to let their eyes rest as they enjoyed the other’s company that wasn’t each other because that always felt weird after a while and felt like they should  _ do _ something. This was more comfortable.

Michael’s initial euphoria had started to fade as the evening passed, making space for all the anxiety that had made it so difficult to start searching for a job in the first place. He had gotten better at dealing with people, at being around them. Slowly but surely, he was starting to feel more like himself. But it wasn’t  _ good _ yet. There were still moments when everything seemed too much and he’d end up unsure about reality again. It hadn’t happened in a while, but the possibility was still there and it made him nervous.

Gerry had noticed him tensing as the hours passed, smile a little too tight. Michael was worrying his lip again. Finally, he decided to turn around and face him. “What’s the matter?”

Michael eyed him, clearly trying to determine whether it was worth bothering Gerry with whatever was putting him on edge. Gerry decided not to push, returning his gaze patiently. Michael sighed and brought his knees up, hugging them close. 

It was barely a whisper when he spoke, like he didn’t actually want Gerry to hear. "What if i space out again?"

Gerry didn’t look surprised. They had talked about this before. The Spiral seemed to have left its mark on him - which, Gerry guessed, was unsurprising considering Michael had become  _ part of it _ \- but it wasn’t a constant. Gerry had only witnessed it once or twice and usually he managed to snap Michael out of it just fine. According to Michael, Gerry helped him bring things back into focus. The fact that he was there helped him remember what was real, that he was real, they both were.

“I was thinking about that, too,” Gerry mumbled, sitting up from his slouch. 

Usually, Gerry talked him out of it, touched his shoulder. But Michael had also texted him before when he felt like he was slipping, had told Gerry he would sometimes go through the pictures he had of them on the phone. It seemed that sometimes he just needed a visual reminder to make sure he didn’t lose it. Gerry had wondered if something small would suffice, something Michael could always have on him. It was at least worth a try.

Michael watched, curious and confused, as Gerry started to take off one of the leather bracelets around his wrist. Michael wasn’t even sure if those were taken off to shower, so he had no idea what Gerry was doing. Or rather  _ why _ he was doing it.

“I know you’re not one for jewelry,” Gerry said and took Michael’s hand, carefully putting the bracelet around his wrist, “And I know black isn’t really your colour, but maybe it’ll just make for an even clearer reminder of reality.” He winked playfully, smiling at Michael’s astonished expression. “I don’t know if it’ll work but...I thought we could try?”

It clicked, then, and Michael’s expression didn’t so much change from astonishment as much as surprised awe somehow joined it. Of course Gerry had said they’d figure it out, but Michael still was taken aback by him actually suggesting this. Michael had never really explained how exactly it worked, how he managed to keep himself from scattering mentally. He didn’t want to burden Gerry with that. But apparently, Gerry had still gotten a good idea from what Michael  _ did _ tell him. He had listened and thought about how to help, and Michael felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered, afraid his voice might break otherwise. He still sounded close to tears and he hated it. Another thing he missed from the Spiral. No constant crying. He sighed in frustration, rubbing at his eyes as he mumbled, “Sorry.”

Gerry shook his head and gently took his hand, the other one still resting in Gerry’s other hand. “Nothing to apologise for.” Michael blinked and one tear escaped, but Gerry kept his grip on his hands when they twitched to brush it away. Instead Gerry moved forward, pressing a kiss to the tear. “I told you before, but there’s no shame in crying, Michael. You don’t need to apologise.”

Michael sniffed and let go of Gerry’s hands to pull him into a hug instead, pressing his face into Gerry’s hair. Gerry returned the hug with a sigh, bracing himself for another apology. 

“I love you,” Michael mumbled into his hair instead.

Gerry knew his face was on fire. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to those words. They hadn’t necessarily come as a surprise the first time, or the times after, but they still left him speechless for a moment. He hid his face in Michael’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”

*

Michael  _ was _ excited about finally working himself. His own funds had started to run low and living mostly on Gerry’s money was starting to make him uncomfortable, no matter how many times Gerry reassured him that it was fine. Michael just didn’t like it.

It also meant that he could take Gerry out, for a change. Gerry looked surprised when Michael had suggested going out after his first paycheck. He rarely initiated such things and Gerry had been convinced he simply didn't like it too much. 

"That's true. But this is special," Michael’s tone was one of barely-contained excitement, making Gerry very curious about what exactly he was planning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why?"

Michael gave him a smile. "It's a surprise."

Gerry laughed, twirling a grey curl around his finger. “I thought you said you hate surprises, Michael.” 

“You don’t, do you?,” he asked, grinning at him. “Also I’m just very sure you’ll like this one.” He pet his cheek gently.

“You’re just making me more and more curious…”

“Just wait until the weekend,” Michael said with a wink. “Also, if you’d let go of my hair I’d start cleaning the kitchen.”

Gerry did let the hair off his finger, but wrapped Michael into a hug instead. “I’d rather you stay here,” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against Michael’s shoulder.

Michael chuckled and ran his fingers through Gerry’s hair. He was still impressed by how smooth it felt. No wonder Michael had spent hours and hours letting the strands run through his fingers as the Distortion. It was hypnotic. Michael sighed, leaning into the hug. The kitchen could wait ten more minutes.

*

Gerry had no clue what mysterious place could possibly be making Michael get so excited about going out. He hadn’t manage to get Michael to spill any further information about it as the week progressed except that they’d be going downtown. It was an overcast day and Michael glanced at the heavy clouds worriedly, making Gerry wonder if they would be outside. But he didn’t comment on it. 

They walked for a bit but Gerry couldn't remember there being anything interesting in that specific direction. When Michael finally came to a stop in front of what looked like an arts and crafts store, Gerry nearly walked into him, not having expected to stop there. Michael turned around with a smile so bright it could make one forget about the gloomy clouds. Gerry felt like he was missing something.

Michael chuckled. “I thought that now you might find the time to draw.”

Gerry’s eyes went wide for a moment. With everything going on and getting used to life again, he had somewhat forgotten about drawing. He hadn’t left any of his supplies in the apartment or the storage unit unfortunately - he guessed they weren’t necessarily essential - and hadn’t gotten around to get new ones yet. Gerry did want to draw again. He couldn’t remember mentioning any of that to Michael, so he assumed he had gotten this idea just based on old memories.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to Michael’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Michael beamed at him before taking his hand and entering the store with him.

They only noticed how much time they had spent inside when they got out again and it was significantly darker. Gerry had suggested Michael get something for himself, too, which had taken a while, since Michael wasn’t the best at decision making and found everything interesting. By the end, he had decided to try out knitting. 

Gerry looked at him as he watched the darkening sky. “Do you want to pick up some food on the way home?”

Michael smiled at him. “I’ll cook us something.” 

“You’re really spoiling me.” Gerry took his hand and squeezed it.

Michael pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Because you deserve it.” 

Gerry chuckled as they started to make their way back home.

Michael refused to let Gerry help with the dishes after eating, so he sat down on the couch with his new sketchbook, considering it. It felt like years since he drew anything, even just sketched. He missed it. His fingers itched as he looked at the blank paper, but he didn’t know what to draw. He felt Michael approach again and looked up in time to watch him sit down next to him on the couch.

“Has inspiration not struck yet?,” he teased, laying his head in Gerry’s lap.

Gerry brushed some loose hair out of his face, “Hm, not quite. Any requests?”

Michael thought about it for a moment. “Hm...no, sorry,” he sighed, “I do miss the one you drew for me. I wonder if Helen kept it.”

Gerry drew his eyebrows together. He had never really considered what had happened to the picture he had drawn for the Distortion. “Did...you put it in the hallway?”

He nodded, smiling. “I loved it. It...loved it.”

Gerry grinned. It was one of his fondest memories with it. “Yeah, I could kind of tell that.” He gently ran his fingernails over Michael’s scalp. “Still, I feel honoured.”

Michael hummed, eyes fluttering close. “You should draw whatever makes you happy,” he mumbled. “To start the sketchbook, I mean. A positive start.”

Gerry watched him for a moment, enjoying the expression of bliss on Michael’s face as Gerry continued to gently scratch his head. Gerry was fairly sure his face didn’t look too different. 

His lips pulled into a grin, tracing one of Michael’s pale eyebrows with his thumb. “Then I guess I’ll draw you.”

Michael pulled a face, but the blush was obvious as it crept into his cheeks. “Gerry, that...that was really cheesy.”

Gerry laughed, “I couldn’t  _ not _ take that opportunity, Michael. You basically served me that one on a silver platter.” 

Michael shook his head, but smiled up at him, grey eyes crinkling like they used to when Gerry made him smile during monotone workdays in the archive. Gerry ran his finger over the freckles on his nose. He sounded more serious when he spoke again, “Would you mind me drawing you?”

Michael’s eyes went wide at the realisation that Gerry hadn’t been joking. His smile turned shy as he mumbled, “I-I mean...no. If you really...want to, you can.”

Gerry smiled, and reached for his pen.

*

They fell into some semblance of routine. Michael always stayed in bed until the last minute, no matter if he had had a proper night’s rest or not. Gerry never stopped being impressed by how quickly he could be ready to leave the house. Sometimes, he even managed to eat something before speed walking through the door. 

They'd meet up for lunch occasionally, but if not Gerry knew he'd find Michael waiting for him in front of the shop when he got off work. Sometimes the way home was silent, sometimes they told each other about how the day had gone. Gerry was trying to get better at cooking, so he usually helped with that and dinner, too, was sometimes shared in comfortable silence or light conversation. 

Weekends didn't really see either of them out of bed before twelve. Nightmares were more frequent for both of them on weekends and there was no reason to force themselves out of the comfort of bed and each other’s arms early, so they didn't. Gerry’s had come back as everything settled down, a reminder that while he could maybe physically escape the past, death did not erase it from his memory. He had known, of course, but it was still disappointing. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if the actual dream or the crushing disappointment was what upset him more.

Michael ran his fingers through Gerry’s hair. He seemed calmer now than a couple moments prior, when Michael had woken to panicked breathing and wide, unseeing eyes. The difficult part was always to get Gerry out of whatever horror was still clinging to him. Michael knew that feeling well, but while he tended to be too disoriented to really realise Gerry was approaching him, Gerry was always on edge. Michael couldn’t approach him while he was like this or he’d scramble away or grab his hand in a death grip. 

It had only happened once or twice, but it made Gerry freak out even more than the dream itself, so Michael kept his distance and tried to talk him down first. It was a frustrating process, words often not reaching through the haze, but Michael had gotten better with time and by now the anxious waiting time to see Gerry’s eyes clear had gotten a lot shorter. The relief Michael felt when he could finally reach out and pull him close was still the same, though.

“I’m so sorry I can’t help anymore…,” he mumbled as he felt Gerry relax slowly in his arms. 

Michael had never thought much about Gerry’s nightmares as the Distortion. It had been rather confused when he told it about them disappearing when it was around, but Michael had never asked about specifics. Michael had never had any idea of how bad they could get. He felt bad about it now, for every night he had left Gerry alone with them. He wanted to make up for it, but he knew he couldn’t, not the way it used to.

Gerry shook his head, but didn’t look up from where his face was buried in Michael’s chest. His voice was muffled, but Michael still heard the slight shaking in it, “Michael, you are helping. It’s fine. I...it’s okay.”

It was clearly not okay. Michael did not feel like he was helping at all. He sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

As usual, Gerry shook his head at that. Michael didn’t blame him. He wasn’t too eager to talk about his nightmares, either, even if he thought it might help. He was working on it. Gerry was, too.

*

It took them both some time, but eventually they felt comfortable enough to talk about their dreams. It was freeing, Gerry found, even though it brought back some repressed memories of early childhood spent desperately trying to hide from his mother and her lessons. Closets, under the bed, outside eventually, attempts to run away. He always failed and paid the price for it. 

Gerry dreamed of her later in life more often, the unfinished ghost that kept following him, telling him how much of a failure he was, what disappointment. But he guessed it all somewhat belonged together. Maybe it was Michael caressing his back, making him feel safe that made it all spill out. Gerry didn’t know. But he often felt lighter afterwards. 

Michael had a more difficult time, but that was because his nightmares came mostly from his time in the Spiral and so it was a twisting, confusing mess to work through. He could never talk for too long about it without getting a headache or breaking down and Gerry watched him stare at the bracelet, fidget with it nervously as he talked. 

Michael could never look at him during those talks, would sometimes gently push him away. It was too much and Gerry shouldn’t have to deal with it. This was Michael’s mess. His  _ murders _ . Still, Gerry never left. He’d give him space, sometimes balancing on the edge of the already small bed, but he’d stay and listen, and if Michael reached out he’d come back and hold him again, making Michael cry all over again.

He couldn’t stop shaking. Sometimes Michael felt like talking made things worse. Gerry held him tighter and Michael sniffed. “I don’t deserve you.”

Gerry huffed out a short laugh. “I would literally not be here if it weren’t for you, Michael.” He gently nuzzled Michael’s head, mumbling, “And even ignoring that, this isn’t about deserving. I’m here because I want to. I’m with you because it makes me happy. You make me happy.”

Michael had to bite his lip to not start crying all over again. He knew if he'd start again, even if it were out of joy, he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead He looked up and bumped his nose into Gerry’s chin on accident. 

“Sorry.” He leaned away a little to look up at Gerry's face properly. He looked tired. It hadn't been a good night for him, either. Michael smoothed his sleep-mussed hair. “I’m happy, too.”

His voice was still tight from crying and his face blotchy red. Gerry couldn't quite keep himself from chuckling at the clashing words. Michael joined him after a short moment of confusion. He could only imagine what he must look like right now, and happy probably wouldn't be the first word that would come to mind. Gerry pressed their foreheads together with a sigh and Michael smiled. He  _ was _ happy.

*

They got used to all of this. It was, in many ways, the most mundane life Gerry ever had, despite the nightmares. It was what he had always  _ wanted _ . Maybe more than that. Gerry had never really imagined finding someone, even if he should ever succeed in running away. But, much like every time he had tried to escape in the past, he didn’t quite manage, not mentally at least. He had hoped this time it would fade, the constant nagging sense that he didn't fit, wasn't right for this life, wasn't made for it. it did not.

It was unfair. Gerry had dared to hope that this time it would be different. That with death behind him he could truly start anew. It had been wishful thinking of course. His memories were still the same. He still  _ knew _ . He still found himself checking the new books coming in twice, listened attentively when customers started telling some odd story, seem just a little off as they looked around the shop. He tried to excuse it with paranoia about life catching up again.

But Gerry found himself a bit too desperate at times. Like he  _ wanted _ it to catch up. Because part of him did. He couldn’t un-know, and he had tried ignoring, but it just didn’t work. And he felt guilty for itching for something bad to happen. He  _ was _ happy. He didn’t feel like he was missing anything for his life to be good right now. It was more the constant awareness that the world was more than the microcosmos of coziness his life had become. And while he wanted nothing more than to stay within it and ignore everything else, it just wasn’t him.

Michael noticed, of course. He was too used to picking up on his own restless cues to miss out on Gerry’s. He didn’t ask, though, not at first. Michael felt like Gerry had enough reasons to be restless.  _ Michael  _ was restless. Trying to enjoy his new life was easier said than done with the mess of memories constantly reminding him of the fact that they could pretend as much as they’d like, monsters were still out there. Michael wondered if Gerry felt the same. If that was the source of him seeming distracted sometimes. Like right now, where he kept drying the same plate over and over again, frowning into the middle distance.

Michael turned off the water and turned to face him, drying his hands in the process. “Gerry? Do you want to talk about it?”

Gerry took a moment to understand, mind still racing with what he had heard at work. It had sounded very much like a lead to a Leitner and he couldn’t stop thinking of it. The customer sounded like they might still be in trouble, too. It hadn’t been too long ago. From the description, Gerry would have to guess the Vast. He had felt very much in his element trying to get as much about it out of the poor customer. And now he couldn’t start thinking about it, was itching to follow up. 

He sighed, putting the very dry plate away, before turning around to lean against the counter. “I think one of the customers from today ran into a Leitner.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but short. “You want to find it?”

Gerry ran his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “I...well, I can’t ignore it, can I?”

“No, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to say you should.” Michael leaned against the counter next to him. “Can I come with you?”

Gerry had been ready to explain his whole thought process to make Michael understand. He had been thinking about how he had to, sooner or later, talk about it and had been trying to piece together some sort of speech that would explain it. This was not what he had expected. Michael didn’t sound surprised at all and his reaction was also far from what Gerry had imagined. He looked up at him, confused.

“Come...with me?”

Michael nodded, "Yes. I’d like to help.”

“I...thought you’d try to stop me," he said, genuinely surprised.

Michael leaned his head to the side, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. “Why would I?”

“I...well, it- I said I wouldn’t...do this? Anymore.” Gerry ran a hand through his hair, looking at Michael, confused. “Also, well...I guess because it gets dangerous?”

Michael smiled. “I think you know how dangerous it can get without me telling you.” He sighed, looking at the ceiling. “You never said you would stop. Well, even if you had...if you want to do this, I see no reason to stop you.” He looked at Gerry again. “It’s what’s been making you restless, isn’t it?”

Gerry looked shocked for a moment before lowering his eyes. He thought he had managed to hide it fine. Apparently Gerry hadn’t been as subtle as he had hoped to be. “Yeah, I...I’m sorry. It’s not like-”

“I...feel the same,” Michael mumbled, relieved to finally be able to talk about it. “We’re a bit too...warped to fit into this puzzle of normalcy, I guess,” he sighed, brushing a curl behind his ear before looking back at Gerry. “So...can I help?”

Gerry was still struggling to comprehend how they had gotten to this point. He hadn’t prepared for this. “Michael, I...it is dangerous.”

Michael chuckled. “I know. I helped you.” Gerry looked like he might want to debate that, so Michael added, “And I did some of my own to bring you back. I’m aware, Gerry. But I still want to help.”

Gerry couldn’t really deny that. And it wasn’t really his place to tell Michael to not do something. He sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

*

It had been easy enough to get into the house where the book was supposed to be. Easier than actually hunting it down, at least. Finding the book had been a little trickier, but they managed that, too, and Gerry had grabbed it and had frozen in place, fingers tightening around it. Which hadn’t been the plan. From the bit they gathered, touching it was not a good idea. Gerry had meant to only stuff it in his bag, but apparently that had been enough to get to him. Michael didn’t know what to do, but he was fairly sure he was starting to hear steps.

“Gerry, somebody’s coming,” he whispered urgently.

Gerry could barely hear him with the wind rushing in his ears. He had been aware of the effect, of course, but he had clearly underestimated it. The very moment his fingers had brushed the leather binding, his stomach dropped,  _ he  _ dropped, falling. And he couldn’t stop  _ falling _ .

The steps were coming closer and Michael was getting antsy, so he simply took the book from Gerry’s clenched hands - which was already difficult in itself, made only worse by the sudden sensation of plummeting, making him gasp. He quickly put it into the bag, forcing himself to let go of it. Gerry stumbled forward, but Michael was back to listening to the steps. They sounded closer, maybe even quicker. He gave Gerry a worried look.

Gerry was listening, too, by now, still feeling somewhat winded, but mind clear again. They were too high up to go for the windows, even if the steps did seem to be coming closer. He’d have to risk it. At least it only sounded like one person. He could probably deal with that. He gestured for Michael to follow as he approached the door. Michael followed reluctantly.

They made for the door but the door flung open as Michael approached it and Gerry pulled him back and didn’t hesitate, fist connecting with the intruder’s stomach. He gasped, stumbling back and Michael took the opportunity to slip out of the door and down the hall, Gerry following close behind after sending the man crashing to the floor with a kick.

They didn’t go home directly. As far as they could tell nothing was following them, but they didn’t want to risk it. They stopped to burn the book off the path home, in a tight alley. Gerry watched as Michael carefully places it on the floor of the alley they had ducked into. He seemed unsteady, but let go of the book smoothly.

“How do you not hold on to that for dear life?,” Gerry mumbled, crouching to pour some lighter fluid on it and set it aflame.

Michael shrugged, “I kind of...just don’t mind that feeling too much, I guess.”

Gerry got up again and raised an eyebrow. “Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for the kind to enjoy free-falling.”

Michael chuckled, “ _ Enjoying _ is a bit much. I just prefer the feeling of falling to the sense of being trapped, I guess.”

Gerry considered that. “Fair.” He shrugged, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. “I’d prefer neither, though.”

They watched the book burn in silence, both calming down from the chase as the paper started to turn to ash as the flames consumed it. It felt good, it felt  _ right _ . Gerry felt like something clicked into place, a missing piece that had been bothering him finally returned. 

“Did you knock the guy out?,” Michael asked as the flames started to die down.

“Not quite, only gave us a head start.” Gerry looked at him with a grin, “Let’s go home.”

Even in the dim light of the alley Michael was struck by the satisfaction in that expression. It was impossible not to return the grin before taking Gerry's outstretched hand.

*

“Didn’t go too bad," Michael said as Gerry joined him in bed, hair still damp from his shower. 

Gerry nodded in agreement, shuffling to sit in Michael’s lap, leaning back against his chest with a sigh. Michael put the book he had been reading - or looking at rather - to the side and wrapped his arms around him. Gerry tended to be cuddly after a shower.

Michael squeezed him gently. “Do you feel better?"

Another nod, this time accompanied with a muffled ‘yes’ as Gerry pressed his face into Michael's chest, breathing him in. Gerry was still fascinated by the fact that Michael actually smelled of whatever he used in the shower now. That he smelled like anything Gerry’s brain could comprehend.

“So, we’ll continue?” Michaels fingers were tracing lazy patterns on his arms and he could feel Gerry melt against him with satisfied sigh. Michael smiled.

“I mean...I will." The words were still muffled so he turned his head back, looking up at Michael as best as he could. "It’s up to you what you do.”

"I'll continue, too." He bent down to press a kiss to his hairline. “What about your job?”

Gerry had already thought about that. Research had definitely taken longer, even when he ended up using downtime at work to continue his following up. But he did still think his workplace might end up yielding more such leads, so he didn’t want to quit, necessarily. He actually quite liked it there, too. 

“I already have the okay to switch to part-time. I think that should work.” His boss hadn’t seem to mind at all, thankfully. Gerry took one of Michael’s hands, playing with his fingers. “What about you?”

“Well...if I get the promotion I’ll be working less hours anyways,” Michael sounded as anxious as he felt about it. He took a deep breath. There was no point in stressing out about that now. “But I guess you might still end up going for some books on your own. Just...text me, then, okay? That you’re okay.”

“Will do.” Gerry brought his hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against his knuckles. “When will you find out about the promotion?”

Michael sighed, burying his face in Gerry’s hair, mumbling, “End of the week, I think.”

He ran his thumb over the palm of Michael’s hand, thoughtful. “That’s when the apartment people wanted to call back, too.”

Things were getting a little cramped as they started to properly settle in. Moving somewhere bigger had definitely started to turn from a vague idea, to a necessity. The lack of storage was frustrating, and so was trying to somehow have both of them cook at the same time. They’d been going to apartment viewings for a while now, with little luck.

Michael nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “We have an exciting week ahead.” 

*

Gerry started to actively search for leads. It felt right, like he finally was himself again. He couldn’t believe that part of him had apparently missed the frustration that comes with searching for Leitners on his own. He considered asking the Institute but Gerry would rather not. It’s were a lot had gone wrong in the first place. He did not need that kind of involvement. This felt more like him anyways.

Gerry felt like himself as much as he could feel like himself, at least. Gerry would sometimes feel phantom pain from the book. He would sometimes feel like he was back, started hearing the hunters again. Felt the dread, the panic, like he was back  _ there _ .

"I...think I know what you mean," Michael had said after he had found Gerry wide-eyed on the couch one morning instead of in bed. Gerry had tried to explain. It had sounded nonsensical to himself but there was a knowing glint in Michael’s eyes. "I feel...the End’s presence since I brought you back, too. I feel...cold. I...assume this was the price. It left its mark."

Gerry had nodded slowly trying to focus on the fact that Michael was human and there and so he was, too, no matter how much he thought he felt the constant pain of not being dead but also not alive. Michael seemed to sense he was struggling with that. He moved closer, took Gerry’s hand in his own. It was easier to focus on the fact that he was alive that way. Gerry clutched Michael’s hand. He could have never done that if he were still in that book. 

He had felt a rare pang at the realisation that he would never feel Michael’s hands again. The many boned ones. He remembered yearning for them so much when he was stuck in that page. He never got to feel it again. 

Michael pulled him into his arms. "Do you feel any better?"

The phantom pain had faded. The sense of being in that book again, the panic and the voices vanished. He nodded, returning the hug, holding on to him. Michael was right here, even if his hands were different now. It was still  _ Michael _ .

Usually Gerry did fine. The memories were there, but that’s what they were. Memories for the pile to haunt his nights. In many ways, it  _ was _ just like it always had been. Nightmares were nothing new, even if their shape was different sometimes, even if his mother wasn’t there in some of them.

*

The week passed rather uneventfully. Gerry found a couple hints but nothing solid to follow up on. It did keep him busy and when the call for the apartment came by the end of the week, Gerry was momentarily confused, before remembering the number and picking up the call. 

Gerry was standing in front of the library, cigarette between his lips and phone in his hand, waiting. It was already a couple minutes past the time Michael got off, but Gerry knew he had the tendency of lingering. Not as bad as when he would spend most of the night in the Institute, Gerry guessed. He had always been glad about the company but, looking back, Gerry should have really told him to go home. He looked up when he heard steps approach and the door open to, sure enough, reveal Michael who still seemed to be talking to somebody inside. It took a moment before Michael managed to excuse himself out of the conversation and properly close the door and turn around only to notice Gerry standing right there, looking at him with a grin. 

Michael looked surprised to see him, but also unbelievably excited about it. "I was about to call you.” He gestured at the phone in his hand, smile wide. In many ways, Michael still radiated whatever he was feeling. And Gerry assumed this barely contained joy could really only mean one thing.

"I assume you got the promotion?"

The smile that accompanied Michael's nodding was radiant. Gerry’s grin grew wider. "I have more good news. We got the apartment."

Michael’s expression morphed into one of disbelieve. “You’re kidding?”

“I’m not.”

Michael pulled him into a hug, unable to express what he was feeling in anything coherent. Gerry returned the hug, allowing himself to indulge. He knew it was only a matter of time before the suspicion that came with every piece of good news caught up with him, with both of them. So they might as well enjoy this short moment of untainted happiness.

*

"I have no idea how we managed to fit all of this stuff into the old apartment…" Michael was putting up the frame he had gotten for the picture Gerry had drawn for him. It wasn't quite the same as the first one but similar, drawn from both of their memories of it. Michael still loved the confusing patterns and had been wanting to put it up ever since Gerry gave it to him. Finally, he had the space.

Gerry shrugged from where he was putting the last couple books on the shelf in the new living room. "It did get cramped after a while."

"True." Michael finally managed to tilt the frame to his satisfaction, looking at it with a smile. They had taken most of the day to get their things in order. There was only a handful of items they’d need to get to be done. They had taken most from the old place, except for the furniture. The new place had been furnished. "Do you want to get the last couple things first or have dinner?"

Gerry put the last book onto the shelf and turned around. "Let's just grab something on the way." 

Running errands together was one of Michael’s favourite things to do. Alone he sometimes still got overwhelmed, though he couldn't tell if by now it was just his old anxiety. But with Gerry it was always fun. They'd chat and Michael didn't feel like he had to hurry, had to escape. They lingered in some places and skipped others, took their time. 

Gerry enjoyed it, too, loved the leisurely walks through stores and streets, Michael’s lilting voice telling him about one thing or another. Taking more time than necessary running errands had always felt like a waste of time, so Gerry had usually just rushed through everything. But this didn’t feel like a waste of time at all. It felt like the ideal combination of getting things done that need to be done while also basically taking a walk with Michael. It was a quite perfect arrangement, in Gerry’s opinion.

Michael leaned back in his chair, watching Gerry finish his food. “Did you find anything to follow up on yet?”

“Nothing concrete, I have a couple of loose leads…” Gerry shrugged, “Might ask you to cross-check with the library for one of them, it appears to have been there at some point.”

Michael nodded, eyes wandering to the window. It had been grey when they left, but the sky seemed to have gotten darker since. “Looks like it might rain soon.”

Gerry followed his gaze. “Guess we should hurry up a little. But we have most of what we needed anyways.”

“Guess groceries can wait for tomorrow,” Michael mumbled, before getting up. Gerry followed suit, grabbing the bags he’d been carrying before leaving the restaurant with Michael.

*

Despite hurrying up, they still got caught in the rain. By the time they arrived home, they were both thoroughly drenched. Gerry was fairly sure the sprint had only made them get wetter, but he wasn’t complaining. Michael was still giggling as he got out of his jacket and Gerry couldn’t stop smiling himself. It had been a fun run. Luckily, they hadn’t bought anything that could get damaged by the water.

It took a moment for him to peel his coat off, but Michael was still in the same spot when he turned around, giggles turning into hisses as he tried to get the hair tie out of his damp hair. 

“Need some help detangling?,” Gerry asked, stepping closer. Michael looked up and froze at the sight. Gerry’s hair was mussed from the run and rain, cheeks still slightly red, eyes bright. He raised an eyebrow, light catching in the raindrops caught in his lashes. Michael forgot to breathe. “You alright?”

“You’re beautiful,” Michael blurted out, eyes wide with amazement.

Gerry blinked, confused, before laughing. He reached out to help with the hair tie, still chuckling. “I guess it has to be true if you tell me now, when I probably look like a wet dog-”

Michael leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Gerry made a surprised noise before kissing back, hands still in Michael’s hair. Michael cradled his face, deepening the kiss, running his tongue over Gerry’s lip. His eagerness made Gerry chuckle and pull back, looking up at Michael’s half-lidded eyes.

“Let me at least free your hair at first.”

“Fine,” Michael grumbled.

He didn’t look happy with that suggestion, but he pulled his hands away so Gerry could go back to working on the tangle. It took a bit more fiddling and Gerry could feel Michael’s growing impatience, but he finally managed to pull the hair tie free without taking too much hair with it. 

Gerry didn’t get to say anything about it before Michael’s lips were on his again, hands coming to his hair this time, tilting his head back. This time Gerry’s lips parted for Michael’s tongue and his hands ran down Gerry’s shoulders, his chest. The front was wet and sticking to his skin, and Michael’s fingers had some trouble finding their way underneath the hem. Gerry shivered at the touch, Michael’s usually cold hands surprisingly warm against his cool skin.

“Let’s get out of these clothes,” Michael mumbled, just pulling away enough to be understood. He was starting to feel cold himself. While he had closed his jacket, unlike Gerry, his trousers were sticking to his legs uncomfortably.

Gerry nodded, “Sounds good.”

Michael kissed him for a short moment before pulling away and taking his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

*

Michael opened his eyes and was lost. The surroundings were wrong, the room was off, everything seemed too quiet. He felt his heart quicken, his eyes darting around what he could see of the room - why was he so close to the edge of the bed? What bed was it? It wasn’t his - and his heartbeat quickened as his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

He felt the hand gently press down on his chest around the same time, felt the body against his back, the familiar warmth. Michael’s breath calmed, his heartbeat slowing as he put his hand over Gerry’s, following the well-studied lines of his fingers, dry and a little rough. He let out a long breath as he felt Gerry press his lips against the base of his neck, lingering until Gerry could feel Michael’s heartbeat was back to normal under his hand.

“Morning,” he mumbled against his neck and Michael relaxed fully at the sound of his voice.

“Good morning.” Michael turned his head a little, smiling softly. “We’re very close to the edge.”

Gerry nodded and moved back a little, pulling him along. “You were so far away when I woke up.”

A light, albeit still shaky chuckle escaped Michael’s lips. “Gerry, the bed’s just a bit bigger.”

“Same difference,” he grumbled, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder and pulling him closer. “I missed you.”

Michael smiled, running his fingers up Gerry’s arm. Gerry gave an appreciative hum. “Did you sleep well?,” Michael asked.

“I did,” Gerry sighed. “It’s so quiet.”

“I guess it’s the room no longer facing the street…” It would probably take some getting used to, but Michael thought he might actually like this new silence. It made him feel farther away from the outside world, more home. Safe. “Breakfast?”

Gerry chuckled, “You’re just excited to try out the kitchen, aren’t you.”

“Can you blame me?,” Michael’s smile was audible.

“No.” The kitchen had been what Michael had been most excited about in the first place. Gerry understood well, but he was also not feeling like getting up just yet. “But I’m very comfortable right now,” he mumbled, kissing the freckled shoulder in front of his face.

Michael chuckled and squeezed his arm gently. “That’s okay, too.”

*

It was easier to adjust to the occasional bookhunt than it probably should have been. Gerry did go for a book on his own, Michael’s schedule rarely allowing for him to do so during the week. Usually, they tried to make things work so both could go. Gerry found himself preferring having Michael with him on the hunts rather than having him worried at work or at home. 

And as much as Gerry appreciated Michael patching him up when it was necessary, it soon became clear that injuries weren’t as common when Michael went along. It was a somewhat clumsy arrangement in the beginning with plenty of scratches and cuts for the both of them, but they had figured out how to work together surprisingly quickly. Serious injuries became rarer as they got better at it. The hunts also, in a strange way, became fun. Or at least less tedious. Easier to bear.

They still got hurt plenty. Nobody bothered Gerry if he showed up a little roughed up to work, but Michael did draw some worried looks when he ended up with bruises and scratches that weren’t as easily hidden. Nobody had asked him about it yet, so he had been trying to come up with a possible excuse should that happen. Hiking, maybe. 

Right now, however, he was just glad that the cut along his calf would definitely be hidden on monday. His jaw tightened as Gerry started to clean it, but Michael rarely made much noise during these procedures. Unless he was taking care of Gerry’s wounds, then he never ran out of things to say and all sorts of worried noises to make. Gerry glanced up to Michael’s white-knuckled hands as they clutched the rim of the bathtub in a vise grip and sighed. It was pointless to tell Michael he didn’t need to try this hard to keep quiet, so Gerry focused on tending to the cut instead. It wasn’t as shallow as he had first thought.

Michael watched as Gerry got the needle out of the first aid kit. He needed distraction. “Do you regret having slipped back into this life?,” his voice was tight with pain, but steadier than Michael thought it would be. 

Michael had wanted to ask for a while, now that it time had passed and it had become a regular part of Gerry’s life to hunt books again. He knew, of course, that Gerry had wanted to do so, but that didn’t mean he was happy to be back at it. It wasn’t that Michael ever noticed him looking upset about it, but more of a general curiosity about how this might be for him.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. “You’re the one bleeding onto the tiles.”

Michael held his gaze. “I chose this. You didn’t.”

For a moment, it looked like Gerry was considering debating that claim. Instead, he shook his head and carefully started stitching Michael’s leg up. “Part of me knew I couldn’t escape it,” Gerry said, voice steady and calm as Michael tensed. The small whimper escaping him nearly got drowned out by Gerry’s voice as he continued, “I...it’s not too bad this time. Not so...heavy.” He gave Michael a short smile. “I guess the right company can make anything better.”

The smile Michael returned was short-lived as Gerry went back to work, doing his best to be quick but not careless. When he was done, he heard Michael release the breath he had been holding, all tension leaving his tight-strung body. Gerry was used to that by now so he was quick to steady him until he caught himself again. Michael gave him a very tired, but grateful smile.

Gerry cleaned up before helping Michael up and to the bed. By the point they arrived, Gerry was basically carrying him. He couldn’t blame Michael. He felt drained, too. He guessed that was part of the point of the Hunt. 

Michael looked at him as he laid down next to him, eyes already fluttering close. “I’m happy to hear I’m good company,” he said with a tired chuckle.

Gerry bent forward to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’re the best company.”

*

With many weekends spent hunting down books or the like, they tried to make the best of the free ones that they could spend doing whatever they wanted to do. Often, that still meant spending the whole day in bed or on the couch. It was on those weekends that Gerry really got to sketch - though he tended to do a bit of that when work was slow - which didn’t really require him to get up if he didn’t feel like it. The same went for Michael, who  _ had _ taken a liking to knitting. It was calming, a way to occupy his hands that were otherwise always restless with nervous energy.

However, with the bigger kitchen, Michael had also gotten back into baking. He remembered that being something he had liked to do before, though not something he had done too regularly, since he didn’t consider baking for one person really worth it. For two people, on the other hand, it was definitely worthwhile. Especially considering Gerry seemed to have a bit of a sweet tooth. And also little patience for waiting until things had cooled down.

Michael watched as Gerry made a beeline for the tray of cookies he had just gotten out of the oven a couple minutes ago, taking one before sitting up on the counter next to the tray. Michael cringed as Gerry bit into it. Gerry seemed utterly unbothered, a satisfied smile on his lips as he chewed. 

“They’re still hot,” Michael pointed out, walking up to him to smooth his sleep-mussed hair a little. There was still a sliver of worry in his voice despite him knowing, by now, that Gerry seemed to not care.

“They’re tasty,” came the answer as he finished the cookie. He brought his hands to Michael’s face, thumbs gently running over the shadows under his eyes. His eyes were still a little red. It hadn’t been a good night. “Do you feel better?”

Michael smiled up at him and nodded. Gerry tugged some curls that had gotten lose from his ponytail behind his ears, though they popped back the moment he let go. He returned the smile before bending down to press a kiss to Michael’s forehead. He felt Michael tense beneath his fingers and quickly pulled away. Michael’s eyes were wide and glistening with tears and Gerry frowned.

“Sorry, was that not okay?”

“No, no, don’t worry.” Michael was rubbing his eyes and took a shaky breath before continuing, “I was just…reminded of that last morning. Before you...well, the last time I saw you before the hospital.” His voice was barely above a whisper by the end. Partly because he could feel the sobs climb up his throat and was trying to keep it together, partly because they never talked about the hospital. 

It was the nightmare they both had, but kept to themselves, not wanting to burden the other with the memories, unsure of how to even talk about it in the first place.

“Oh,” was all Gerry managed, too shocked about how very close the conversation had come to what he was continuously trying to forget, without much success. 

Clearly, it was still a painful memory for Michael, too. Gerry wrapped his arms around him, letting Michael hide his tears in Gerry’s chest. That last night and morning had been something Gerry had been avoiding thinking about because he could never stop himself there. 

For Michael, it had been the last memories of Gerry alive and well and he had clutched onto them, willing for time to stop with that kiss. It had never worked, of course. Even as the Spiral, Michael had no power over time. But that hadn’t stopped it from wishing it. It hadn’t stopped it from thinking about that goodbye that shouldn’t have been as final as it had been. 

So Michael still remembered it well, though he couldn’t really remember the feeling of Gerry’s lips against his forehead then. That had faded even before he turned human again, a loss that had struck it badly then, and only worse when he found himself human again. This had just brought all of that up again and Michael couldn’t keep his shoulders from shaking as he cried silently. No amount of reminding himself of the fact that Gerry was fine, that he was literally crying into his shirt that very moment, seemed to make it stop.

Gerry ran his hand over Michael’s back in soothing motions, his other hand resting on Michael’s head. Mentally, however, he was back in that hospital in America, feeling the life bleeding out of him slowly, alone. He hadn’t been alone for long.

“I never did thank you, did I,” he mumbled, squeezing Michael gently, just to feel him. He remembered how frustrated he had felt when he could barely feel Michael’s touch then. It had been an intense craving, a wish to assure him that he was still  _ there _ . Of course, Gerry hadn’t been fully there by then.

Michael had calmed down a little and leaned his head to the side, pressing his ear to Gerry’s chest where his heart beat steadily. He sniffed before speaking up, “Thank me?”

Gerry struggled to find the right words, before giving up and saying, “For being with me. In the end.”

“Oh…” The silence that followed wasn’t necessarily heavy, but it wasn’t comfortable either. 

Michael had always had many questions he never asked about the hospital, had been unsure whether he wanted to really know any of the answers. Had simply not wanted to  _ talk _ about it because it hurt to think back to it. But in all that time, it had never occurred to him that Gerry would feel the need to thank him. 

“Were you...afraid?,” Michael tried, careful. He didn’t want to push too far, didn’t want to make Gerry talk about something he did not want to talk about. Or think about. The memories were probably even worse for him.

Gerry’s hand stilled on his back and Michael bit his lip, sure he had gone too far. Gerry sounded hesitant when he spoke again, “I’m not sure. But...I was alone and could feel it creeping up on me.” He sighed, trying to find the words to describe what he had been trying not to think about, “It...it was worse than every other time I came close to dying. Usually it’s a sudden thing, a...a moment. Not too much time to...realise what’s coming? Often I’d only really notice how...close it was after. When...when it was over. Even when I had the seizure it was...quick. Violent.” Michael was tensing up again and Gerry gently squeezed his shoulder and waited for a moment, either for him to relax again or for him to tell Gerry to stop. 

“Go on,” Michael whispered, voice a little shaky, but clear. 

Gerry nodded, still somewhat absent-mindedly. “Laying there and just...feeling myself slipping was- it...I was...relieved when you came. Distracted me from it. Stayed...with me.” He pressed a kiss to Michael’s hair. “I know it probably wasn’t easy.”

Michael felt the tears well up in his eyes again. It was a lot, but it was also something Michael had been wondering about since Gerry was back. How much he remembered of dying. How it had felt. He had never been able to ask, didn’t know if he could take the answers. 

He wrapped his arms around Gerry and pressed his face into his chest again. He felt overwhelmed, but not necessarily in a bad way. Michael had beat himself - and itself - up for being unable to do more, to help. To at least prevent Gerry to suffer further after his death. There was something reassuring about hearing its presence had helped in some way, had been appreciated. Something soothing for a wound Michael had carried with him when he had been pulled away from the Spiral, and out of it. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “For telling me, I mean.”

Gerry nodded and buried his face in Michael’s hair. He didn’t know when the tears had started to fall from his eyes, but he didn’t really care. Gerry felt  _ good _ . Like he had started to work through a particularly tight knot in his stomach, a shadow he’d been avoiding to face for far too long. Yes, it felt a little like reopening a nasty cut, but it was clearly one that hadn’t properly healed yet. It felt awful, but also good and Gerry was tired again, but glad he had pushed through.

“Thank you for listening,” Gerry whispered into Michael’s hair.

*

It didn’t become a regular occurence to talk about Gerry’s death and everything surrounding it, but it at least wasn’t a topic they both avoided as much as possible anymore. It was a slow process, but eventually it was, much like all the other things that haunted them at night, something they could voice when one of them felt like it was crushing him. It still wasn’t something they asked questions about otherwise, but it was progress, and they were both fine with that as they continued to go about their new life. 

*

Michael was getting to that point where he was just tired about turning the same thought over and over in his head. Going through all options and possible outcomes, trying to come up with different ways to say what he wanted to say. Preferably a more indirect way. He was getting to the point where he just wanted to push everything to the side and finally get over himself. 

Gerry was sketching, looking relaxed and happy, and Michael just couldn’t think of any way to make this a natural conversation, so he just bit the bullet. “Gerry?”

“Hm?” He didn’t look up from his sketch. Michael was quite thankful for it. He curled his toes, considering sitting up. Maybe if he’d stay like this he could make it sound casual? Gerry didn’t seem to notice the movement in his lap.

Michael bit his lip. "What...What's your opinion on marriage?"

The pen in Gerry’s hand stilled. Michael sounded forcibly nonchalant, pointedly casual, and yet it wasn’t quite enough to cover the slight nervous waver in his voice. Or maybe Gerry had just become too good at reading him. He looked up from his sketchbook and to Michael, whose head was still leaning against the opposite headrest. His expression certainly betraying his tone, eyes unable to decide whether they wanted to stare at Gerry or literally look anywhere else, shoulders tense. It looked like he might have forgotten to breathe.

“Are you  _ proposing _ to me?,” Gerry didn’t sound nearly as shocked as he felt.

Michael’s face turned an impressive shade of red in an impressively short time. Though Gerry felt his own cheeks warm, too, so there was a good chance he didn't look much different. 

Michael sat up, too quickly, folding his legs beneath him and brushing his hair behind his ears. “More, uh...more like trying to figure out if it would be worth trying. I’m not a big fan of surprises, so...I thought I’d ask.” He gave a weak shrug. “I...didn't know how to in a...a more inconspicuous manner. It’s not really something we, uh...talk about.”

Gerry tried to not give into the overwhelming feeling spreading through him, the genuine surprise. If Michael had managed this far, the least could do was give him an answer without freaking out. "I…I don’t really have much of a opinion." Michael’s features were twitching into something akin to panic and Gerry quickly added, "I don't- I mean, I don't think I’d be opposed to it." 

Michael's face was stuck between panic and careful hope and Gerry felt out of his depth, felt the panic rise. So he went for something he was more comfortable with. His grin was a little strained as he said, tone light, "Gerry Shelley would have a nice ring to it.”

Michael relaxed a bit at the familiar tone, smiling. “I like Delano, though.”

“Me, too. That’s why I chose it instead of Keay.” Among other reasons. But Michael already knew. “Could go for a double name,” Gerry pondered. “Shelley-Delano...Delano-Shelley…,” he mused, running a hand through his hair nervously and trying to calm his racing heart. 

Gerry hadn’t expected this conversation to happen, but the more he joked - stalled - the more he realised that, somehow, he did have an answer to it already. It wasn’t something he had actively thought about before, but the right answer came quite naturally, through nerves and panic.

Michael chuckled, before his smile turned shy again as he started wringing his hands in his lap. He was glad for the lighter turn of the conversation, but at the same time Michael couldn’t really tell if this was just a joke for the sake of making things less awkward, or an answer. 

The anxiety was back at the thought of it only being former. He cleared his throat before trying again, “I- Since we’re...having this conversation, does...does that mean- I...I mean...” Michael couldn’t bring himself to look at Gerry, his face burning as he struggled to make his question a coherent sentence.

Gerry smiled, gently turning Michael’s face towards him by the chin. He couldn’t quite keep the nervous edge out of his voice, but it was steady enough when he said, “Yes, Michael, I do want to marry you.” 

He watched for a moment as Michael’s whole face relaxed in relief, before it lit up, grin wide and eyes sparkling. Gerry closed the gap, then, pressing their lips together as his face blush turned darker the longer he looked at Michael’s joyful expression. Gerry couldn’t quite believe he had somehow contributed to that beautiful sight. Michael made a small, happy noise against his lips before wrapping his arms around Gerry’s neck and kissing him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Like, especially the ending, because I struggled to hard on whether I should leave it at this or take a stong turn into Tragedy Land. So please let me know? (If you want of course!! I'm just really curious)


End file.
